Gotham Prep
by AmberZ10
Summary: Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy tackle their most dangerous adventure yet: high school. A (coherent) fluff-fest brought to you by AmberZ10 (author of Mad Love: A New Beginning) and areyoukiddingmedude (author of Unconscious Motivation).
1. Chapter 1

**Author(s) note:**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: I feel like what this fandom wants most is angst and drama.**

 **AmberZ10: Let's...keep brainstorming on that.**

 **aykmd: But they unanimously loved the shocking moments in Sirens Arena! And the Joker chapters in Unconscious Motivation!**

 **AZ10: I don't think "unanimously" means what you think it means.**

 **aykmd: FINE. Let's give 'em a high school AU so sweet it'll rot their f'ing teeth out!**

 **AZ10: OK...but also like smart, right? Like cute, sure, but also substantive?**

 **aykmd: Wouldn't have it any other way ;)**

 **AZ10: Then I'm in. Let's do this.**

Harley was frolicking through fields of daisies, her blonde pigtails bouncing with each frolicky step, with her loyal hyenas at each hand and a sea of puppies trailing behind them – when suddenly her alarm blasted her back into reality.

"Ungh," she grunted, fumbling at her phone until it finally stopped _bzzt_ ing at her. Then she lifted her head from where she was sprawled face-down on her twin bed and squinted one eye indignantly at said phone. "Why'd ya hafta interrupt my beautiful dream?"

Harley (real name Harleen, don't ask, just move on) Quinzel flopped onto her back and threw an arm over her eyes. Then she sat up straight. "First day of school!" she gasped, and she bounced out of bed to grab a shower before any of her little brothers could get in there and hog the bathroom.

She showered quickly, threw on a t-shirt and a skirt, and went to the kitchen to see if they had any Cocoa Puffs.

As usual, the kitchen was absolute chaos. Her mom held her 4-year-old brother by the collar as he squirmed and tried to run away, screaming the whole time. Her 8-year-old brother was throwing pieces of cereal at the screaming toddler, laughing his head off.

And her 12-year-old brother . . . was pouring the last of the Cocoa Puffs into a bowl.

Harley was just opening her mouth to forcefully negotiate with him when her mom said, "Harleen, thank God! Come hold this one for me and make him eat so I can get dressed for my shift."

"But–" Harley began. Then she realized that her mom probably forgot it was her first day at her new school, and she sighed. "Come here, kiddo," she said, and he eagerly jumped into her outstretched arms as her mom hurried off to change.

By the time she got her littlest brother fed, there was barely enough time for her to brush her teeth, grab her backpack, and run. "Bye, guys!" she said. "I'm going to school!"

There was no response. The general hubbub didn't diminish in the slightest until Harley closed the door of the apartment and leaned against it with a sigh.

Then she went downstairs, unchained her bike, and pedaled off toward her first day at Gotham Prep.

When Harley got to the school, she was struck again by how much it looked like a castle, and she had to stop herself from breathing out a "Wow." She looked around for a bike rack but didn't see one, and then she realized that was because she was the only kid on a bike. Everyone else was getting dropped off, in limos and town cars and – what kind of car was that? She'd never even _seen_ that logo before.

And they were all wearing school uniforms. And they all looked like they'd stepped right out of the pages of GQ.

And Harley wondered, not for the first time, if she was making a huge mistake.

She settled for hitching her bike to a tree, then pulled out her phone like she always did in moments like these and chose a number. A warm voice answered after only one ring: "Harley? Did you make it to your first day okay?"

Harley exhaled, feeling better already. "Hi, Dr. Leland," she said. "I'm fine. I just – everyone here is so–"

"Harleen Quinzel," Joan Leland said in her 'tough love' voice. "You know you have just as much right to a first-rate education as every student at that school – and more right than some."

"Yeah, I guess," Harley said, shuffling her feet.

"Harley," said Dr. Leland, her voice softening now. "You did all of this on your own, with very little support from your – from anyone. You won that scholarship through hard work and talent, and you will be the first person in your family to go to college."

"Okay," Harley said, a little stronger now. "I got this."

"Damn right you do," Dr. Leland said, and Harley could hear her smile over the phone. "Now get in there and knock 'em dead!"

Harley put her phone away, took a deep breath, and prepared to walk through the doors of Gotham Prep for the first time.

/

4:58am. Pamela's eyes shot open two minutes before her alarm. Good. Today was important. Today was the first day of school, she would need every extra minute to adequately prepare herself.

A shower was first on the agenda, naturally. She carried her cellphone to the bathroom with her and shivered a bit as her bare feet adjusted to the temperature difference of the stone tiling. She set an alarm for 10 minutes because that was enough time to clean herself but was also less detrimental to the environment in comparison to how some tended to luxuriate.

She braced herself on the glass wall of the shower and allowed the warm water to spill over her body, soaking into her thick red hair as she closed her eyes and sighed. Pamela found the warmth of the shower comforting. A welcome embrace, caressing her body in—beep, beep, beep- Time's up. She grimaced slightly as she shut the water off and stepped back into harsher temperatures of early morning Gotham City.

Towel wrapped tightly around her torso, Pamela wrung her hair out and began to thread it through her curlers, then reset the timer for 15 minutes. "Good." She said to herself with a sly smile as she sat down at the mirror to the right of the sink. The redhead studied herself in the morning light for a moment before flicking on the bulbs that surrounded her reflection. Now that her tanned, supple skin was illuminated in a more flattering light, her smile widened. It was the first day of Junior year, she had a right to be excited. This year, everything mattered. Every assignment, every paper, every tardy, every class choice and volunteer opportunity…It would all be reviewed by the colleges she applied to, and every sacrifice, every late night study session, food bank shift, missed party…it would all be worth it once those acceptance letters started rolling in. And her parents would be so proud. They'd tell their colleagues and employees that their daughter was accepted to Harvard or Yale or Cornell or Stanford, or all of them, maybe- yes, likely all of them.

Pamela applied her makeup with a steady hand, having mastered the look of utter perfection long ago. Her green eyes shown back at her as her eyelashes gained volume with each stroke of mascara. "You look wonderful, Pamela." She told herself, not having to keep her voice down because- at the moment- she was the Isley household's sole occupant, until her mother and father returned from their work engagements in Metropolis and National City.

Beep, beep, beep. Pamela removed the curlers from her hair, spraying the wavy locks into place with the product her mother had formulated. It was- without familial bias- the best product of its kind. Being the daughter of one of the foremost cosmetic chemists in the country certainly had its perks. "Good." Pamela said again, satisfied with her hair and makeup. She'd already ironed her uniform the night before, so all she had to do now was slip it out of its plastic cover and fuss with it until it lay just right against her. Every button straight, every line flattering. She tied the black ribbon around her neck beneath the white collar of her short-sleeved dress shirt and then pulled the green blazer over top, completing the ensemble. "Excellent."

6:02am. Pamela's ride was expected at 6:30, which meant plenty of time for breakfast. She pulled the portion of fruit salad she'd prepared from the fridge and added one cup of plain greek yogurt. After brewing herself a cup of green tea, she sat down at the empty table to pour over the Gotham Preparatory Academy's website, making sure she hadn't missed an announcement. She hadn't, and the website's only update since she'd checked it last night was a banner welcoming back the students.

6:28am, a black town car pulled up the long, winding driveway and Pamela straightened her bag on her shoulders, tapping her foot as it came to a stop in front of her. The driver popped out of his door and came around to help the redhead inside. "Good morning, Ms. Isley. You look lovely."

"I know, Alec." Pamela assured him as she ducked into the back seat. "And good morning."

Three blocks later they were passing the Kyle house and Pamela smirked when she saw Selina's corvette still in the driveway. Pam was going to arrive at school first. "Heh." She was still smirking with an intense self-satisfaction when they arrived, a comfortable 15 minutes before the morning bell. "Thank you, Alec." Pam told him distractedly as she once again pulled the backpack onto her shoulders and adjusted the straps.

"See you at three?" He asked.

"No." Pam told him like he should know better. "I have tennis until 5. I'll be expecting you then."

"Of course." He nodded politely. "Have a good day, Ms. Isley."

"I will." She smiled despite herself as she made her way across campus with familiar, surefooted steps, towards the doors of Gotham Preparatory Academy.

 **Author's note: Bonus points if you can guess which one of us wrote which part.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AmberZ10: Let's establish some more secondary characters in the AU this chapter.**  
 **areyoukiddingmedude: Or - how about we let the readers meet Selina and Nygma and ooh! Batman!**  
 **AZ10: ...I feel like you're not listening.**  
 **aykmd: 333**

Harley quickly walked up to the door of the principal's office, trying to ignore the raised eyebrows and curious stares of the Abercrombie models around her. _You can do this, Harley_ , she told herself, then knocked three times in rapid succession, more loudly than she'd meant to.

"Come in!" said a commanding voice, and Harley pushed the door open – again, harder than she'd intended, and she winced as it banged against the wall inside.

She stood nervously in the doorway as an imposing woman looked at her dispassionately from behind a large mahogany desk, her fingers tented. "Do you have something against walls?" she said, and Harley giggled before she could help herself.

"No, ma'am," she said. "I'm firmly in support of walls. Doors, on the other hand . . ."

"Good," said the woman, and Harley thought she could detect a sparkle of amusement behind the impassive façade. "I'm Principal Waller." She stood and extended her hand. Harley walked in and shook it, closing the door behind her.

"Nice to meet you," Harley said. "I'm –"

"Harleen Quinzel, I know," said the principal, sitting back down. "Dr. Leland speaks very highly of you, although your transcript speaks for itself." Harley blushed slightly at the unexpected compliment.

The principal didn't invite her to sit. She just watched Harley, who shifted a bit under her gaze. "You'll need a uniform," she said abruptly. "See my secretary on the way out for that and your class schedule." Harley nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh – and one more thing," Principal Waller added. "Judging by your transcript, science is your weakest subject. If you're going to excel here at Gotham Preparatory Academy, you'll need to work on that. I've asked Professor Woodrue to assign you a peer tutor."

"Yes, ma'am," Harley said, recognizing that it was time to leave when Principal Waller turned to her computer. She opened and closed the door much more gingerly this time.

The secretary's desk was right outside in the main office, but Harley didn't see anyone sitting there. She leaned against the counter to wait.

"Feed me and I live, give me a drink and I die," said a voice, and Harley jumped. A boy with reddish brown hair, thick glasses, and the trademark green blazer of Gotham Prep had just popped up from behind the counter she'd been leaning on.

"Wh-what?" Harley stammered, trying to catch her breath.

"It's a riddle," he said incredulously. "Haven't you ever heard a riddle before? They're the highest form of intelligence."

"I thought that was sarcasm," Harley said.

The boy blinked at her, then barked out a quick laugh. "I like you," he said, holding out his hand suddenly. "Edward Nygma."

Harley shook it a little cautiously. "Harley Quinzel." She let go of his hand. "So . . . do you know where the secretary is?"

Edward shrugged. "She comes and goes. But I'm her student assistant this semester." He cocked his head, bird-like. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, the principal told me to get a uniform and my class schedule," said Harley.

"Ah!" said Edward, clapping his hands. "Right this way!" He led her to a closet with neatly packaged green blazers and skirts. "Let's see," he mused, looking her up and down, "you look like about a . . . here we go!" He grabbed two packages and quickly turned to Harley, thrusting them into her arms. Then he marched over to a computer. "She changes her password sometimes, so this might take me a minute . . . and we're in!" He pressed some keys, then grabbed the piece of paper that had just printed and presented it to Harley proudly. "And – you should be all set!"

"Thanks," said Harley uncertainly. "I'll just . . . go change in the bathroom."

"Pleasure to meet you!" said Edward, returning to whatever he had been doing behind the counter.

Harley paused on the way out the door. "By the way . . . the answer is fire."

She couldn't see it, but Edward smiled behind the counter.

/

"Pamela Isley, you ignorant slut!"

Pamela gritted her teeth, scrunching her eyes shut as she gathered her wits. After a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, she turned around, huge smile on her face in the direction of the assertive voice. "Selina Kyle," she regarded the smirking, stylish brunette with an unusual and entirely falsified friendliness. "What a change of pace, seeing your tongue in your own mouth rather than down your boyfriend's throat."

The dark haired boy to Selina's right chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with their usual deserved confidence. "Hey, Pam."

"Oh, Bruce." Pam's tone was cloyingly sweet, grin still plastered on her face. "I didn't see you there."

"Tell me, Pammy…" Selina slinked up beside her, smelling of expensive perfume, "Where would _you_ like my tongue?"

The redhead rolled her eyes, giving her friend a small bump with her shoulder when she got too close. "Where's Diana?" She addressed Bruce instead.

"Lacrosse had a meeting before school." He explained.

"Which is exactly why I told her to quit that dumbassery and be your doubles partner, Pammy." Selina interjected, pushing the redhead out of the way of her own locker mirror to get a good look at herself.

"I don't play doubles." Pamela huffed. "Why didn't you recruit her for the gymnastics team?"

"A gymnast is born, not made." Selina answered matter-of-factly, pushing her dark bangs aside and ruffling up the back of her short hair.

"Where are you headed first?" Bruce asked.

"Gordon's English." Pamela did her best to hide her annoyance at the fact.

Selina slammed Pam's locker shut, evidently deciding her friend was done with it. "How the fuck did you get into AP Lit?"

"Why don't you ask my 4.1 GPA?" The redhead sneered. "Don't tell me you're in it too."

"Well of course I am, Pammy. I requested your exact schedule. I said, 'Principal Waller, Pamela Isley is my bestest BFF and I just can't stand the thought of being away from her for even a second!'

Pam's face was hot. "They don't let you request schedules like that." She mumbled.

Selina laughed. "Let's go write about our feelings, you fucking automaton."

/

Harley slipped into an empty seat just as the first bell rang. "Whew, that was close!" she whispered to herself.

"New girl?" said the boy next to her, and Harley looked at him for the first time. He was the only person she'd seen here who wasn't wearing a green blazer, and the first person she'd ever seen with bright green hair. And he was smirking at her as if he ran the place.

"Yeah," she said.

"Heard about you," he said. "What brings you to our fine establishment?"

Harley started to reply, but just then the teacher walked in. "Haec est classis Latine," he said.

"What?" Harley whispered.

"This is Latin class," said the boy next to her, still wearing that infuriating smirk. "Are you in the wrong place?"

"Shit!" Harley hissed. She stood up, knocking her pen to the floor, and fumbled until she'd gathered all her things. "Sorry – wrong class," she mumbled, trying to ignore the snickers around her.

"Find me later," said the boy. "No, scratch that – I'll find you." Harley flushed and headed out the door.

She peeked her head into another classroom after several minutes of wandering the halls. An auburn-haired woman looked up from where she sat in the front of the room in a wheelchair, her eyes kind behind her glasses. "Are you looking for AP Literature?" she said, and Harley sighed in relief and nodded. "Well, you're in the right place. I'm Professor Gordon – Barbara," said the professor. "Come on in."

Harley heard a few whispers, but told herself she could handle it. There was only one empty desk, and of course it was in the front row, right beside a redhead who sneered at Harley as she passed her.

 _I'm sure we'll be besties one day_ , Harley thought sarcastically, and she flopped into her seat.

/

"Professor Gordon?" Pamela asked, approaching her teacher's desk a few minutes in advance of the bell.

The woman turned her wheelchair away from the smartboard to regard the pretty redhead in front of her. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to introduce myself." Pamela smiled charmingly. "I'm Pamela Lillian Isley."

Professor Gordon took the girl's hand, giving it a shake. "Did you enjoy the summer reading?"

"Oh, absolutely. Yes, Ma'am." Pamela lied. She'd completed the reading, of course, but hadn't enjoyed a single moment of it.

Professor Gordon had evidently noticed the girl's momentary hesitation because she regarded her critically, narrowing her eyes slightly behind her glasses. "Who was your favorite?"

"Emerson."

"Why?"

"His use of nature as a metaphor." That part was true.

Professor Gordon was still clearly unconvinced. "Hm. Well thank you for introducing yourself, Pamela. I look forward to knowing you better."

Pamela smiled once more and reached into her backpack, producing a wrapped vial of her mother's most successful perfume, the same kind that Selina was wearing. "A preemptive gift for your valuable tutelage."

"Thank you." Professor Gordon said plainly, taking the gift and dropping it in her desk drawer already nearly full with presents from other students hoping to buy a good grade in her class. "You can take a seat now, Pamela."

"O-of course." The girl's smile drooped slightly. Usually her charm was absolute, yet this teacher seemed absolutely immune. She offered a small nod before taking her seat in the front row. "Bitch."

"She doesn't seem so bad to me." Bruce shrugged.

Pamela was turning around to change his mind on the subject when the bell rang.

"Ms. Isley." Gordon addressed her. "Eyes to the front, please."

Selina snickered and Pamela turned- red faced- back to the smartboard where the teacher was sitting, ready to begin her presentation.

"Talia, will you do me a favor and hand out the syllabus?" Professor Gordon asked the long-haired brunette sitting in back.

"Ugh, of course they're on a first name basis." Selina grumbled only loud enough for Bruce and Pamela to hear.

"I honestly don't know what your problem is with her." Bruce whispered. "She's always nice to me."

"That's because she wants to fuck you." Selina informed him, but a bit too loudly.

"I'm sorry, do I need to separate you three?" Professor Gordon asked with a heated glare.

"No, Ma'am." Pamela said quickly, trying to save face. This was not how her first class of the year was supposed to go and it was all Selina's fault. Selina and Bruce and Professor Gordon. When a syllabus finally made its way to her, she read through it quickly, trying and failing to hide the look of complete and utter terror on her face. Pamela had assumed "AP Literature" meant that they would simply be studying great works of literature, not having to write creatively themselves. Pamela was a scientist. She was going to be a scientist, and this was so horribly…artistic. She unceremoniously shoved the syllabus aside on her desk and sat back in a huff, her arms crossed against her chest.

"Are you looking for AP Literature?" Professor Gordon was asking.

Pamela snapped her head up, confused, before she realized the woman was talking to a blonde girl she'd never seen before. She must have been new because she'd tied the ribbon wrong on her collar and her shirt wasn't tucked in. The girl was nodding.

"Well, you're in the right place. I'm Professor Gordon – Barbara. Come on in."

The girl looked around the room for an empty seat, and it wasn't until they accidently made eye contact that Pam realized the only one was right next to her. 'Typical.' Pam rolled her eyes as the girl sat down.

And Professor Gordon's glare was on the redhead once again. "Ms. Isley, I'm going to need you to share your syllabus with—I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Harley." The blonde answered.

Professor Gordon smiled kindly. "How about your full name. For the chart?"

"Oh, right." Harley laughed nervously. "It's Harleen. Harleen Quinzel."

"Great." The teacher made a note. "Pamela, please share your syllabus with Ms. Quinzel."

The redhead took the paper from where it was teetering on the edge of her desk and roughly slid it over to the girl. But she misjudged, wasn't looking closely enough, and before she knew it their hands were touching and a jolt of what felt like electricity was running from Pamela's fingers into the pit of her stomach. She looked at the girl again, truly taking her in this time. Her bright blue eyes, pale skin and fair features. She looked like the girl-next-door on every television show and Pamela was suddenly having trouble looking away, or withdrawing her hand.

"Now that we're all here." Professor Gordon's voice jolted Pamela back to reality. "How about we get started?"

 **author(s) note: Bonus points if you can tell us whose version of Selina that is.**


	3. Chapter 3

**areyoukiddingmedude: haha, your girl is totes crushing on my girl! "Ooh, I'm Pamela. I'm feeling sparks!"**

 **AmberZ10: Well your girl is super awkward in this chapter, so...**

 **aykmd: YEAH SHE IS**

 **AZ10: Is there a point to this? or...**

 **aykmd: Nah, I just like doing them.**

 **AZ10: ...**

Harley slid into the empty seat and fumbled in her bag for a pen or a pencil or something, anything to hide her mortification at being late on the first day of school – and to avoid the chilly glare of the redhead sitting next to her.

She froze when Professor Gordon said, "Ms. Isley, I'm going to need you to share your syllabus with—I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Harley," she mumbled, hoping that was the last time anyone would talk to her. But the professor went on, kindly, "How about your full name. For the chart?"

"Oh, right," said Harley with a nervous little laugh she instantly wished she could take back. "It's Harleen. Harleen Quinzel."

"Great," said the professor, marking her present. "Pamela, please share your syllabus with Ms. Quinzel."

 _Please let Pamela Isley be the girl behind me. Or the class guinea pig. Or . . . Professor Gordon's imaginary friend_ , Harley prayed silently. But – of course – there was an extremely put-upon sigh from her left as the frosty redhead slid a piece of paper over to her, harder than necessary, so that their fingers brushed.

Harley's eyes snapped up to see that the other girl was staring at her. _Uh-oh_ , Harley thought. She just knew that the girl – Pamela – was scrutinizing her sloppy uniform, her cheap makeup, that she could see right through her as easily as if Harley wore a sign on her forehead that said SCHOLARSHIP KID.

But the look in Pamela's bright green eyes was more stunned than calculating, and she hadn't moved her hand yet. Even with that light touch, Harley swore she could feel how soft the other girl's skin was.

Then the professor started class, and Pamela jerked her hand back, facing front as if nothing had happened.

Harley leaned her cheek on her hand, a little flustered, and wished the day would just end already.

After class, she quickly gathered up her things so she could get out of the room before anyone else noticed her. She couldn't resist one quick glance back at Pamela, who was watching her for some reason. Harley wasn't sure how that made her feel.

She tossed a quick smile to Professor Gordon – Harley already knew this was going to be her favorite class – and hurried out to find . . . ugh, AP Biology.

/

Pamela watched Harley get up from her desk after the bell rang. She glanced back at Pam, but didn't say anything, just smiled at Professor Gordon and left.

"Hey!" Selina kicked the back of Pam's chair. "Let's go, we've only got 10 minutes and Bruce needs food. He's a growing boy."

The redhead scowled as she gathered her things, slipping the syllabus into her binder and filing it into her backpack. "I don't see how that's my problem."

"Oh, shush, Pammy. You don't have anything better to do." Selina chided, looping her arm around Bruce's.

"Than to watch your boyfriend eat? What a sad life that would be." Pam got up and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"Would you like it if I ate a banana? Real slow…" Bruce mocked.

"And indulge your homoerotic fantasies? I think not." Pamela had an uncanny ability to keep a straight face no matter what she was saying. "Last time I checked that was Dick Grayson's job."

"Ooh, burn, Pammy." Selina laughed, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "She got you there, babe."

"Remind me why I hang out with you guys?" Bruce's good-natured expression was marred only slightly.

"Because we're sexy." Selina grabbed him by his lapel and pulled him into a kiss.

"Hey!" Professor Gordon shouted. "None of that in here. I will write you up."

"Yes, ma'am," Selina winked.

/

Harley found the AP Bio classroom relatively easily; she was starting to get the hang of the room numbering now.

She was the first student there – Harley supposed that her classmates were probably checking in with their horses' daycare providers, or possibly doing some light mergers & acquisitions during the break between classes.

The professor was sitting at his desk, fully engrossed in something on his computer. When Harley said, a bit haltingly, "Professor . . . Woodrue?" he jumped and quickly minimized the window, then turned to face her with an oily smile. He wore nerd glasses and had messy hair and kind of a pointy face. Harley supposed some people might find him attractive, but she thought he looked shifty.

"Hello," he said. "Yes, I'm Professor Woodrue." His gaze swept over her briefly as he stood up to come around to the front of his desk, where he leaned in an affected casual pose.

He held out a hand. "And you are . . .?"

"Harley Quinzel," she said automatically, shaking his hand. His palm felt unnaturally smooth, like he over-moisturized ( _who moisturizes their palms?_ Harley thought), and he held her hand just a second longer than appropriate, until Harley pulled her hand away and stammered something about finding a seat.

She hoped she was imagining his eyes on her as she walked to the back of the classroom.

/

The air outside the AP Biology classroom seemed fresher to Pamela somehow. She'd been admitted into the class Sophomore year, but her parents somehow knew the teacher in a professional capacity and Mr. Isley hadn't been fond of him, so Pamela waited. Just her luck, Gotham Prep hired a new one just in time for Pam's Junior year, and she was over the moon at his qualifications. Professor Jason Woodrue came to Gotham Prep immediately after a 5 year run at Cornell, which was Pamela's first choice school. She wondered- if she impressed him- if he'd put in a good word for her, maybe write a letter of recommendation.

Selina had Calculus this period with Processor Dent, and Bruce was with Diana at Ms. Kane's Physical Education. So Pamela was alone in this class, and she liked it better that way. No one to hold her back. She stepped into the classroom with her head held high. The sciences were her domain, even the other students knew that.

Unlike Professor Gordon, Professor Woodrue was sitting on his desk having a conversation with the boy Pam recognized as Edward Nygma. The professor's features took a moment for Pam to get used to. He was attractive, she supposed…but also dangerous somehow, all points and angles. His messy sandy blonde hair and round glasses gave him a sort of charming boyish appearance that Pamela found somewhat endearing.

She waited for a perceived break in the conversation before strutting up to the professor, pushing Nygma slightly, who didn't seem to mind. Actually, Nygma blushed at the brief contact.

"Professor Woodrue?" She attempted her greeting again, hoping for better luck this time. "I just wanted to introduce myself. Pamela Lillian Isley." She stuck her hand out.

Yes…He was far more susceptible to the pretty redhead's charms.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Pamela." He grinned, his lips pulling back away from his teeth. "Congratulations on being accepted to AP Bio."

"I was actually accepted last year…when I was a Sophomore." Pamela wanted- no, needed- to set the record straight on that. She deserved to be here a year ago.

"So we've got a prodigy on our hands." Their hands- he was still holding her hand.

Pamela blushed, ending their handshake to shyly brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Well I—"

"Hi!"

Now there was a hand on Pamela's lower back. 'Nygma, you little creep', she thought as she whipped around to find…Harley. Harleen. Ms. Quinzel. The blonde from earlier.

"Remember me?" The girl asked, pulling Pamela away from the professor a bit.

"Y-yes, yes, I do." Pamela stuttered, somewhere between confused and uncomfortable.

"Pam, right?" She asked, her voice high and clear.

The redhead nodded. "Harleen, right?"

"Harley." The girl smiled, her lips stretching as wide as the professor's, but somehow less sinister…

"Perfect." Woodrue spoke up. "Isley and Quinzel?" He pointed to the girls belonging to the names. Both nodded in unison. "Looks like blondie here needs a tutor, and according to Principal Waller, you drew the short straw, Red."

"Pamela." She corrected.

"Pamela." He winked.

/

Harley tried to make herself invisible in the back of the AP Biology classroom – of all her classes at Gotham Prep, this was the one she was most worried about. She remembered that Principal Waller had said something about a tutor and wondered idly who it would be.

Students started filing in. Some of them stopped by and introduced themselves to Professor Woodrue, including that weird kid from the office – Eddie something? He waved eagerly to Harley before engaging Woodrue in conversation.

Harley recognized a couple other students, too – the girl with long dark hair from Gordon's AP Lit class slipped into a seat near her in the back and nodded at her silently.

And then – of course – Ms. Pamela Isley waltzed in, head held high like she owned the place. Harley held her breath, hoping that she'd sit near her and smile, hoping that she'd never speak to her again.

But Pamela zoomed right in on the Professor, literally pushing Eddie out of the way (rude) and turning on the charm for that creep Woodrue.

When he leered at her, using that same hand-holding move that he'd tried on Harley earlier, Harley was halfway down the aisle before she even realized she was moving. Some instinct she couldn't name told her to get up there and save the redhead, who didn't seem to have any idea that she even needed saving.

 _Think, Harley_ , she told herself. _What's the game plan here?_

Apparently, the game plan was to awkwardly put a hand on Pamela's lower back ( _her lower back, Harley?_ ) and say the first amazingly clever thing that popped into her head: "Hi!"

Pamela whirled on her, green eyes flashing, and Harley actually took a little step back, pulling Pamela away from the professor a bit. "Remember me?" she said. _God, Harley, words – remember words?_

The tall redhead stuttered, "Y-yes, yes, I do."

"Pam, right?" Harley said. _Probably should have called her Pamela,_ she thought nervously, but Pamela nodded. "Harleen, right?"

Harley flinched. She hated that name. "Harley," she said, easing into a smile now.

"Perfect," the professor interjected. "Isley and Quinzel?" Both girls nodded, and Woodrue smiled that greasy smile again. "Looks like blondie here needs a tutor, and according to Principal Waller, you drew the short straw, Red."

 _I'm going to kick him_ , Harley thought.

The redhead corrected the nickname: "Pamela."

"Pamela," Woodrue amended with a wink.

 _Right in the nuts_ , Harley thought.

But she didn't. She went straight to her seat in the back, avoiding Pamela's curious gaze, and did her best not to look at her again for the rest of class.


	4. Chapter 4

**Actual Conversations Between the Authors, #1:**  
 **areyoukiddingmedude: Dude, when I look at all the fics in the Harley/Ivy fandom, I feel like [my story] Unconscious Motivation is this fat little rainbow pony in a race with giants.** **AmberZ10: Haha, I know exactly how you feel.** **AY: Yeah but [your story] Mad Love is like a black thoroughbred with mental issues** **AZ: Wow, umm...that sounds amazing...but, what does it mean?** **AY: FAT LITTLE RAINBOW PONY, I don't know how much clearer I can be...**  
 **It's like the bestest analogy ever** **AZ: Mhm...sure...totally...But seriously, what?**

"Mandarin salad." Pamela told the woman working behind the salad bar at the cafeteria.

"Caesar, please and thank you." Selina emphasized her pleasantry in comparison to Pam's abruptness.

The redhead rolled her eyes, ignoring her as she leaned back against the counter to survey the cafeteria. She couldn't help but notice the blonde- Harley- had yet to arrive. Not that it mattered or anything.

"Diana, you beautiful bastard!" Selina was greeting the athletic girl making her way towards them, bypassing the line of other students, her jet black hair flowing glamorously behind her despite her having just come from gym class.

"Why is Diana a 'beautiful bastard' and I'm an 'ignorant slut'?" Pam asked, venom in her tone.

"Your tits are bigger," the brunette replied absently as Diana arrived, her tray already full with the roast chicken option. Selina leaned in and kissed her on both cheeks. "Coach Kane whipping you into shape?" she asked.

"Always." Diana chuckled. "And Pamela…" she gave the redhead the same greeting. "A literal goddess among us."

"That's high praise coming from Princess Di herself." Selina laughed, accepting the compliment for her, and Pam couldn't help but smirk.

"I didn't see you all summer." Diana remarked to the redhead. "Let me guess, you got some internship at some lab and were too busy nerding out to remember you had friends."

Pam cocked her head slightly in false thought. "I'm not sure that 'nerd' can be used as a verb."

"Oh, come on, Pam." Diana laughed. "How often did you wear your contacts this summer? Be honest."

"Sometimes they irritate my eyes." Pamela told her, not exactly making an excuse, just explaining the situation.

"Translation? She looked like Velma from Scooby-Goddamn-Doo all fucking summer." Selina grabbed her finished salad from the counter, picking up Pam's as well and placing it on her tray.

Diana's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Bruce reserved our table. I'm starving."

"I thought you only feasted on the broken bodies of your enemies." Selina led the way to the waiting table with a smirk. "Opposing athletes beware, Diana Prince has a stick and she's not afraid to use it."

"If I remember right," Dick Grayson jumped in, "she only bit a girl once, Selina. And she was only suspended for three games."

"One! Suspended for one game!" Diana defended herself, sitting down across from Bruce while Selina and Pam sat at the opposite end of the table. "And that's what happens when little girls try to play against grown women."

"Wonderful." Pam said sarcastically, stabbing her lettuce with her fork. "Now I'll be imagining the taste of sweaty flesh as I eat my lunch. Thanks for that."

"And you're only 17." Bruce reminded his best friend.

Diana shrugged. "Close enough."

/

And now it was time for the only moment of the day Harley was dreading more than AP Bio:

Lunch.

She approached the cafeteria, heart pounding. Would anyone let her sit with them? Should she have packed a lunch? Ugh, it just all felt so . . . high school.

Just as Harley grabbed a tray and started to go through the line, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hi, Harley! Remember me? Edward Nygma?" said the bespectacled boy, grinning eagerly.

"Hey, Edward. Of course I remember you," Harley said, relieved to have someone – anyone – to talk to.

"Since it's your first day and all, I thought you might like to get the lay of the land," he said. Then he cleared his throat as Harley slid her tray along, picking up a couple of items. "I have towns but no houses, lakes but no water, forests but no trees. What am I?"

"I'm going to guess . . . a map, since you just said 'the lay of the land'?" Harley said as she paid the cashier. An odd mixture of pride and defeat flashed across Edward's face when she got it right, but he brightened almost instantly. "Come on! I'll show you around."

He led her over to a table in the corner where one other boy sat. He had dark hair that flopped in his eyes, and he peered out from behind his glasses with a sullen expression. "Harleen Quinzel, meet Jonathan Crane!" Edward said with a flourish.

"Hey," said Jonathan.

"Nice to meet ya," said Harley brightly as they sat down. "And Harley's fine. So, Eddie was just going to tell me about how things work around here."

"Okay," said Edward. "Now, what you have to understand is that while most of these people come from similar backgrounds and are forced to play nice in social situations, there are very starkly drawn lines between groups that may not be crossed."

He pointed out various tables in turn.

"Over there are Cassandra Cain and the cool Asians. Her second in command is a girl named Tatsu. I think they're both like actual ninjas." Harley saw a girl dressed all in black, with perfectly styled shoulder-length hair that matched her clothes. She was surrounded by girls who were hanging on her every word.

Edward pointed at another table. "Bruce Wayne and the other varsity jocks." Harley recognized a handsome boy with a chiseled jawline from her Lit class, and instantly vowed never to say the phrase 'chiseled jawline' aloud. "Who's the girl?" she said, noticing the tall, raven-haired beauty sitting across from Mr. Chiseled. _Raven-haired beauty, what the hell is wrong with me?_

"Diana Prince, goddess," Edward said. "She's the captain of the lacrosse team and Bruce Wayne's best friend since kindergarten. Everyone always assumes they're together, but they swear they're just friends. Besides, Wayne's dating Selina Kyle."

"Who?" Harley raised a blonde eyebrow.

"Patience, my dear. We'll get to her." He moved on to indicate a table at the edge of the cafeteria. "Desperate wannabes. The one in the bomber jacket is Roxy Rocket. She used to hang with the popular crowd until she and Bruce Wayne had some kind of falling out. Or so the story goes."

Edward indicated a table that was covered in Funyuns and Red Vines. "Burnouts. Zatanna Zatara and Barry Allen are the two I know. Barry used to be on the track team. Zatanna always wears fishnets, so we like her." He and Jonathan both giggled at that. "I don't see their leader, though . . ." Edward looked around. "I'm sure he'll show up eventually, he always does."

"Finally," he went on, "the greatest people you will ever meet." Harley kept looking at him, but he was nodding his head at the girls seated at the end of the "jock" table.

"Oh," said Harley. "I sort of thought you meant . . . you two." Jonathan snorted, and Edward chuckled bitterly. Harley turned around to see that he was looking right at . . . _her._

And _she_ was looking back, her perfectly poised fork frozen halfway to her mouth, not a single red curl out of place as Pamela and Harley locked eyes across the noisy cafeteria.

"Selina Kyle and Pamela Isley." Edward sighed a little as he said Pamela's name. Harley could hear her pulse thrumming in her ears and had to focus harder on what Edward was saying. "Every so often, another girl tries to claw her way to the top, but no one can beat those two – although they're always trying to best each other."

Pamela finished taking her bite and looked away, seemingly interested in what the dark-haired girl next to her was saying. _That must be Selina_ , Harley thought, clearing her throat and facing Edward once more.

"So," Edward said, "like I was saying – the greatest people you will ever meet . . . and the worst."

"Oh, Eddie, talking about me again?" said a sly voice, and suddenly the green-haired boy from Latin class slid into the seat right next to Harley.

/

Selina swallowed a mouthful of salad. "So we obviously need to throw a party."

"Oh?" Pamela replied distractedly as she glanced around the cafeteria. Not looking for anyone in particular, per se…

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Selina asked like Pam had just murdered her cat. "Of course we need to throw a party!"

"Mm. OK." The redhead took a sip of her water, still not completely focused on what her friend was saying.

"We'll have it at my place since my parents won't be back until the end of the month." Selina informed her. "And—"

There she was. A nervous smile on her face, her blonde hair drawn up into childish pigtails that would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else. Harleen- no, Harley. She'd asked to be called Harley. Pamela filed a mental note. She was pretty…still pretty, that hadn't changed since Literature class, not that it would…why would it change? Pamela's fork remained poised halfway between her plate and her mouth, now an afterthought. 'Hi,' she'd said with a slight accent. A Gotham accent, that much was clear. So she hadn't moved to town; she'd just switched schools. And now she was sitting with…Nygma. A loser. And that Crane boy. Pamela mentally congratulated herself for even knowing the second boy's name. They were directing Harley's focus around the cafeteria, and despite her nervous expression, there was something in Harley's eyes that interested Pamela. An excitement. A sort of…weightlessness. Pamela was looking closer now, trying to at least, when…blue to green, she was looking directly at her. They were looking at each other, or they were…eye contact…there was that electricity from earlier and it moved even quicker to Pamela's stomach this time.

"So what do you think?" Selina unfroze time and the redhead quickly finished her bite, shoving the lettuce in her mouth without any of her usual grace.

The feeling faded from Pam's abdomen as she focused on the yellow flecks in her friend's green eyes. "What?"

"The theme! What do you think?" Selina asked again, setting her fork down.

"Yes, it's…Certainly. Brilliant. I love it." Pamela wasn't a great liar.

"You didn't listen to a word I just said, did you?" The brunette scowled.

"Noir." Bruce helped her out. "As a theme for the party. Like Hitchcock stuff."

"I know what 'Noir' is." Pamela told him a little too harshly, but she withdrew, her eyes apologizing for her. "Just tell me what you need me to bring, Selina. A party sounds fun."

"Whatever." The brunette huffed. "So who do we invite?" she asked, aiming the question at her boyfriend this time.

"Harleen Quinzel." Pam said at the same time as Bruce answered "Everybody."

Selina regarded the redhead curiously. "Who?"

"The, umm…" Pamela cleared her throat, willing away the blush in her cheeks. "The blonde from Gordon's class."

"You mean that idiot who was late?" Selina laughed. "Why?"

Pamela shrugged, regaining her usually commanding demeanor. "Well, this is our school, right?"

Selina nodded, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Then isn't it our job to be hospitable? At least until we know for sure she's an idiot?" Pamela asked, casually taking another bite of salad.

"Mmm…" The brunette narrowed her eyes, thinking it over. "Yeah, all right. Blondie can come. And I think I can pull things together by Friday. Party on Friday? My place?" She addressed the whole table, receiving enthusiastic nods in return. "Awesome." She grinned, sitting back and popping another piece of gum into her mouth.

"Awesome." Pamela repeated, glancing quickly across the cafeteria once more.

 **Bonus points if you can translate that analogy into English for me (AZ)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Actual conversation between actual authors #2** **AmberZ10: ...did you use "Harl" in the place of "hell"? Did you seriously just say "Harl yeah!"?** **areyoukiddingmedude: I REGRET NOTHING** **AmberZ10: I'm...I think the feeling is...pride? I'm impressed?** **areyoukiddingmedude: Go with that.**

Harley packed up after her last class of the day (the other students continued to ignore her) and headed down to the locker room so she could change for gymnastics tryouts, the only thing she'd truly been looking forward to all day. Harley had been the star of the gymnastics team at her old gym in Central Gotham, and she loved it more than anything – most of the events made her feel like she was weightless, flying, free. More than that, Harley was good at gymnastics. Excellent, even. Rated one of the top 10 gymnasts to watch when she was in only 7th grade. She'd been invited to train at a gym in National City…but membership was expensive and in many ways, Harley was her siblings' third parent. She couldn't just leave her family behind…

She'd gotten through her afternoon classes without incident, managing not to be late or to attract too much attention – either from gorgeous red-haired biology tutors or from creepy green-haired boys.

Harley frowned a little, recalling how he'd sat too close to her in the cafeteria, how he'd made Edward and Jonathan visibly uncomfortable. When he figured out that Edward was explaining the various groups to her, he crowed, "Oh, don't listen to Eddie! I'll teach you everything you need to know!" Then he pointed around the room seemingly at random, loudly announcing, "Bitch. Whore. Asshole. Even bigger asshole. Weakling. Simpleton. Fucking moron."

Edward and Jonathan both hid their heads in their hands, trying to make themselves invisible – a trick Harley knew well. "Hey," she said to the loud intruder, "what's your name, anyway?"

It was a transparent distraction ploy, but it worked. "Ooh, my favorite subject – me!" he said, putting his chin on his hands and batting his eyes up at her. "You can call me J, sweet little girl."

"Okay, J-sweet-little-girl," Harley said, and Edward tittered in surprise. A brief flash of anger crossed the other boy's angular features before he settled them back into a smirk.

He leaned close to her ear – Harley did her best not to recoil, trying to stand firm – and said in a stage whisper, "You're a smart girl, right? Smart girls like you should realize that it's better to stay on my good side."

Then he sniffed her hair loudly, smacked his lips, and set off for the "burnout" table, just as suddenly as he'd appeared.

Back in the present, Harley shuddered at the memory. What a sleazeball. Then she realized that as her mind had been wandering, so had her feet, and now she was completely turned around.

She finally found the locker room and changed quickly, then knocked at the coach's office. "Coach Kane?" Harley said, reading the name on the door.

"That's me," said a trim woman with a long red ponytail from behind the desk. "Oh! You must be Quinzel. Your old coach thinks you hung the moon, pretty sure we talked about you over a beer one night." She grinned as she held out a hand for Harley to shake.

"Um, do you have a tryout uniform you'd like me to wear? Or is this OK?" Harley asked, indicating her tank top and spandex shorts.

Coach Kane shrugged. "If you're half the athlete Central says you are, we'll get you all tricked out in Gotham Prep green before you know it. But that will work for now." She checked her watch. "Oh! We'd better get out there."

They entered the gym together, and Harley suppressed a gasp. Everything was shinier, fancier, better lit than at her old gym. And this wasn't even a dedicated Gymnastics institution! It was just a high school! Harley couldn't believe the facilities. Her fingers flexed unconsciously when she saw the uneven bars, and she jiggled one leg at the sight of the vault.

"Well, everyone, I think most of you know the drill," Coach Kane said to the group of 5 girls in mismatched leotards. "Our captain Selina here" – she indicated the girl with short dark hair who'd been sitting by Pamela in the cafeteria, and Selina inclined her head gracefully – "will walk you through warm-ups, and I trust you all have floor and bar routines prepared. After everyone's had a chance to show their stuff, you'll each perform a vault of your choice. Quinzel here is the only newbie, but evidently she knows what she's doing. Still, don't be afraid to help her out if she gets lost. We're a team here. Remember that."

The girls all nodded, Harley with a huge smile on her face. Her feet on the springboard carpet just felt so right, she couldn't help but show it.

Coach Kane gave a nod to Selina, then checked her watch again. "Shoot! I'm late for a faculty meeting. Selina – do you mind –"

"Of course not, Coach Kane," Selina purred. "It's my pleasure." She smiled benignly as Coach Kane left the gym, then turned to the girls with a look of what Harley could only describe as 'disappointment.' "Listen up, cream puffs. As all of you know, this school is the mecca of high school gymnastics. Our facilities, our recruiting, our routines…best of the best of the best– but last year…" she sighed, clicking her tongue. "What happened last year, Curly Sue?" She indicated the girl Harley had seen at lunch- the one violating the uniform code with the bomber jacket.

"I…" The girl started, her voice raspy. "I fell."

"Hello Kitty? Tell the new recruits where she fell," Selina prompted the leader of the "cool Asians"- _Cassie? Cass? Cassandra?-_ who was dressed in a sleek black leotard, black sweats hanging loosely off her hips.

The girl's eye roll was barely noticeable behind her stoic expression. "She fell off the beam."

"That's right." Selina nodded solemnly, stopping her pacing to stand in front of the girl she'd nicknamed 'Curly Sue'. "Now, I don't blame her. I can't blame her. Why? Because…"

"Everyone is susceptible to the pressure." Hello Kitty and Curly Sue repeated, while the other girl- _with the long dark hair…from Biology and Literature…Talia?-_ remained silent.

"Except for…?" Selina prompted further.

"The captain," they finished.

"The captain." The stylish brunette repeated with a self-indulgent, Cheshire Cat smile. "In case you weren't aware, Little Miss Sunshine," she addressed Harley now, "I am the first captain in the history of the sport at this fine institution to be given the title as a sophomore. Now, I led a successful season…" she began to pace again. "We won State, we were ranked first going into Nationals but then…"

"Roxy fell." Talia filled in the blank.

"Curly Sue took a tumble, that's right, Tall Dark and Lonesome." Selina acknowledged her, clasping her hands behind her back. "Kimmy Schmidt over here looks like she thinks this is some happy-go-lucky bullshit." She was referring to Harley again. "Like I'm going to give everyone umbrellas and we're gonna go singing in the motherfucking rain."

The blonde's smile faded a bit, but she steeled her resolve, deciding probably too hastily what route she would take. "Is this Speech and Debate?" She asked.

Selina stopped in her tracks, now focusing all her attention on the blonde. "Excuse me?"

"I just…" Harley giggled, "With all the yappin' we're doin', I figured I musta had the wrong room. See, I thought this was gymnastics."

The other girls were dumbfounded, staring at her like she had a whole banana stuck to her face. But Selina just smirked, evidently steeling her resolve as well.

"Quinzel, right? Harleen?" she asked, coming closer. Close enough for Harley to smell her expensive perfume.

"Yeah." The blonde grinned- somewhat sheepishly now. "But you can call me Harley. Everyone does."

"Harley…" Selina tried out the taste of the name on her tongue. "Like the motorcycle?"

"Yep." She gave off another nervous laugh, but still less awkward than the one in Literature Class.

The brunette looked her up and down once more. "I think I'll call you Crotch Rocket. Whaddya say?" She mocked the girl's accent. "Ready to rev up your Harley?"

/

Pamela grunted, taking out her frustration on the next ball that came her way. She swung too early and sent it hurtling toward one of her teammates. "Hey!" the girl cried.

Pam didn't acknowledge the outburst – it was inconsequential compared to the turmoil in her head.

 _Focus, Pamela_ , she urged herself. She knew that athletics were a key component of a well-rounded transcript and that she couldn't afford to be distracted by –

The next ball flew at her and she hit this one perfectly, adding one to her mental tally of perfect shots. She was well off her target score and refused to allow herself the excuse that it was the first practice of the season.

 _What is wrong with you today?_ She had more important things to worry about than locking eyes with some – transfer student. Even if it was twice in one day. And even if she felt a strange sort of connection every time they –

"Shit!" She hadn't even heard the machine fire, and the next ball hit her hard in the hip. Pam heard a couple of her teammates laughing and shot them a glare that likely would have killed them had they not been wearing sunglasses. They stopped immediately, eyes focusing on their feet in what appeared to be a demonstration of shame. _That's right,_ Pamela thought, holding her head high and smoothing her custom-stitched tennis skirt with the hand not holding her racquet.

Okay. It was time to prioritize. First – get through tennis practice with all limbs intact. Second – there was something she needed to make arrangements for . . . what was it?

"Shit!" Pam said again, but for a different reason as she returned the ball effortlessly this time. She'd just remembered that the thing she needed to arrange was biology tutoring sessions for, who else? Harleen Quinzel.

Throughout the duration of practice, Pam managed to focus enough not to get hit again, though not nearly enough to meet her own internal standards. By the time her instructor announced that it was 5pm, she was good and irritated with the other girl. Why should it fall to _Pamela_ to schedule their tutoring sessions? _She_ wasn't the one who needed the help.

And yet – she'd have to take care of this, like everything else. Pam sighed and went to find Selina. The brunette was sneaky and had mysterious ways of finding out information about people. She'd be able to get Harley's number.

As Pam made her way quickly and efficiently to the gymnasium where Selina should be wrapping up gymnastics tryouts, she pondered her options. Should she call Harley? Text her? What was appropriate in a strictly tutoring-only relationship? Maybe an email? Certainly not a hand-written letter…

The decision was made for her when she collided hard with someone coming out of the locker room. Someone who smelled like a hard run outside mixed with Jolly Ranchers, a combination that Pam wouldn't ever have imagined appealing to her before that moment.

Someone whose hand had somehow ended up on Pam's ass in their attempt to stay upright.

Someone with blonde pigtails and blue eyes and . . . damn it.

"Oh. Um…hi," Harley said, giggling and withdrawing her hand from where it rested on Pam's rear. She actually wiggled the fingers of that hand at Pam as if to say, _See? All gone!_

Pam took a deep breath, composed herself, and said, "Hello, Harley."

 **AmberZ10: Coming up with Selina's nicknames for people has been one of the greatest joys of my young life. Although I can't take credit for "Hello Kitty", that was AY's. Anyway, bonus points if you tell us your favorite so far. And do you think she has a nickname for Bruce? (besides "Babe", of course). Also, I took a crack at Harley this chapter while Dude did some fantastic Pammery. Can you tell the difference?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Actual conversation between actual authors #3** **areyoukiddingmedude: They're loving Crotch Rocket #YourLegacy** **AmberZ10: On my tombstone. "Here lies Amber. Gone before her time. Once referred to Harley Quinn as 'Crotch Rocket'. This is her legacy."** **areyoukiddingmedude: Pretty much perfect.**

Harley was pulling her backpack out of her locker when Selina came in. There was just something so glamorous about the girl with her short black hair, perfect makeup and impeccable style…she'd already changed into a pair of darkly washed jeans and a black leather jacket, but even just in her school uniform…she was so…chic. Harley, on the other hand, was still in her gym clothes. Un-showered. Saying Harley felt inadequate would be an understatement. _No, knock it off, Harl. She sorta liked it when you talked back._

"So…" Selina began, leaning casually against the lockers. "As captain, I wanted to officially welcome you to the team."

"You mean I made it?" Harley squeaked.

"Yeah, no shit you made it." Selina laughed. "Jesus, Crotch Rocket, don't you have any self-esteem?"

Harley grinned broadly, not even caring about the slightly demeaning nickname. "I'm so happy."

"I can see that." The brunette was clearly amused, possibly even charmed for how she smirked. "In any case, you're a Gotham Prep Rogue now, so…welcome."

"Thank you!" Harley thought her smile might tear her face in two. "Seriously, this means so much to me."

Selina nodded and pushed off the lockers, twirling her keys around her finger. "Well if you were shit you wouldn't have made it, so if you continue to impress me rather than disappoint, we won't have a problem."

"Yes, Ma'am." Harley said like she would address a teacher. _Ma'am? Ma'am?! She's your age, Harley!_

The brunette seemed to enjoy that very much. With a sly smile she said, "I'm having a party on Friday. You're coming. Cool?"

"Coolio!" Harley said enthusiastically. _Coolio? Just go jump off a bridge, Harley. Please._

Selina couldn't help but laugh at that, and Harley guessed it was only about 70% at her expense and 30% actual enjoyment. "The theme's Noir, by the way. So figure it out." She told her as she walked out, backpack slung casually over one shoulder.

"Bye!" Harley called after her. But the sound of a shutting door was her only response. Harley was giddy as she laced her shoes up. _Selina Kyle, that sexy dictator, just invited me to a party. I think this is a big deal! I mean, if she and the redhead- Pamela- are really the best people I'll ever meet…_

She skipped out of the locker room absolutely oblivious to her surroundings until— _ow_! Harley collided with someone on her way out the door and was thrown off kilter, she grabbed for anything to keep her upright and that just happened to be…some girl's ass. _Really?_ No…not just 'some girl,' it was _her…_ Red- Pamela, and she smelled like flowers and…

"Oh, umm…Hi." The words were coming out of Harley's mouth before her mind could catch up because the girls were face to face and even though Pamela wasn't as made-up as the last time they'd seen each other, she was somehow just as beautiful. The modeliest model of this school full of modely models. _HANDS, HARLEY! YOUR HANDS_! The blonde couldn't help but laugh at the situation, because OF COURSE this would happen to her. Harley knew the party thing had been too good to be true. She knew she'd find a way to mess it up, and what better way than to accidently grope the ass of the school's other queen bee? Harley (finally) pulled her hands away, but judging by the look on the redhead's face, she needed proof, so Harley wiggled her fingers, trying to silently communicate to the redhead that she meant no harm, she was just an alien not deserving of residence on this planet.

Harley watched as Pamela took a deep breath, clearly attempting to recover from the unique sensation that was being molested by the idiot new girl, before greeting her with a very mature sounding, "Hello, Harley."

/

After "Hello, Harley" (a decent if rather dull opening statement), Pam said the next thing that popped into her head: "I was looking for Selina."

"Oh – she left already – if you hurry, you can probably still catch her," Harley said.

"No! I mean – I was looking for you," Pam hastened to correct her.

Harley looked up at her, and a hint of mischief sparkled in her blue eyes. She patted Pam's shoulder in a friendly way, and the redhead barely managed to keep herself from jumping at the contact. "Pamela . . . this might be hard for you to believe, but Selina and I are actually _two different people._ " She whispered the last three words, and Pam's answering laugh caught both of them by surprise.

Pam shook her head a little to clear it, feeling a bit dazed – probably from the collision. "I'll clarify. I was looking for Selina because I thought she might be able to get your contact information. I didn't realize you were trying out for gymnastics."

"Yep!" said Harley. "It's my favorite!" She did a little dance, and honestly who was this person? Pam had never met anyone like her. Then Harley looked at her quizzically. "Why did you need my contact infor – oh, for bio tutoring, right." Her shoulders drooped a little, and Pam wondered why (then hissed at herself to _stop wondering why_ ).

"Well, since I ran into you, I can just give you mine," Pamela said, recovering from – whatever it was. She pulled a card from the smallest pocket of her handbag and presented it to Harley. "My address and phone number are listed there. We will start this Wednesday evening at 7pm sharp. I'll expect you then."

And she marched away, before Harley could respond, before Pam could slip again and lose the modicum of control that was letting her walk away right now, before she could get swallowed up by thoughts of those spandex shorts, that warm hand on her –

 _Damn it, Pamela!_

/

Harley didn't even lock up her bike when she got home, just left it in the yard and did a silent prayer it wouldn't be stolen. There was just too much to think about! She'd made the gymnastics team, she'd been invited to a party, a teenager- no, THE teenager- had slipped her _a business card_ of all things. What 17-year-old has a business card?

Anyway…as per usual, the house was in the throes of utter chaos. Her mother was on the phone, trapping it between her shoulder and side of her face, her arms occupied with Harley's 4-year-old brother. The 8-year-old was now throwing his broccoli, rather than his cereal, so at least that was a change of pace.

Harley immediately came in to intervene. She grabbed her brother's hand, lowering it back onto the table with the crown of broccoli still in its clutches. "Food is for our tummies," she intoned.

He grinned and shoved it in his mouth, chewing proudly for his older sister. Harley's face drew up into a nearly identical expression and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before walking across the kitchen to her mother.

"You need help?" Harley mouthed.

Her mother shook her head. "You have homework?" she asked without sound, still juggling the phone and the toddler.

Harley nodded and her mother gestured towards the stairs to imply that Harley should get on it. She kissed her littlest brother on the head and bounded up to her room, roughly throwing her backpack on the bed once she'd made it.

Then she flopped down after it, laying on her stomach with her feet crossed behind her in the air. She bit her lip as she took the business card from her pocket, looking at the gold letters that spelled out "Pamela Lillian Isley." _I know she's supposed to be cool_ , Harley thought, _but what a dork_. She flipped it over and programmed the number into her phone, deciding that a google search was in order.

 _Oh…that's why she was wearing a tennis skirt,_ Harley realized as she read over the article ranking the girl first in the state singles standings going into the club season. That's also why she was sitting at the "varsity jocks" table. She was, in fact, a varsity jock. She'd also evidently won the NOVA Labs Junior Scientist's national competition as well as the science portion of the Siemens Competition- _heh, semen_ , Harley giggled. Well…at least Harley knew Pamela was qualified to tutor. So, this Isley girl was just your classic, hot, rich, genius over-achiever. _Perfect_ , Harley groaned as she shut her laptop. _I can't wait to disappoint her_.

/

Alec was waiting patiently at the curb with the car, as well he should be. "Good evening, Ms. Isley," he said, tipping his cap and opening her door.

"Good evening, Alec," she said distantly as she climbed in.

Once inside the car, she put up the divider – she wasn't in the mood for idle chitchat after the day she'd had.

The house was empty, as expected – her parents wouldn't be back until the weekend from their important business engagements. Pam was used to the quiet. She fixed herself a cup of herbal tea and perused the list she'd made of homework assignments. It was a typically light courseload for the first evening of school, but she could work ahead in the classes that provided a full syllabus.

She put her teacup in the dishwasher and headed upstairs. Pam allowed herself a 5-minute shower in the evenings, with the aid of her trusty timer, to refresh herself for the evening. (She only washed her hair in the mornings, of course – water conservation was still paramount.)

Pam stepped out of the shower when the timer dinged and put on her robe. She washed her face, moisturized, and then ironed her school uniform for tomorrow.

Then she sat down at her desk, turned on the Tiffany lamp that sat on it, and prepared to do as much schoolwork as she could that evening.

Exactly one hour later, she was surprised to find that midway through her AP Biology reading (she'd started there so that she could be appropriately ahead for her first tutoring session), she had doodled an ornate 'HQ' in her biology notebook, covering the letters with a delicate ivy plant.

Pamela Isley did not doodle. She tore out the offending page, crumpled it up, and threw it away. (Two seconds later, she took it out of the garbage and placed it in her small recycling bin instead.)

She tapped her pencil against the desk and looked out the window, at the sun that was just setting.

She thought about how long it had been since she'd had a Jolly Rancher.

And when she went to bed later that night, at precisely 10:00 p.m., she had to kick off all of her covers because she felt hot all over.

 **AmberZ10: Yes, I attended the Areyoukiddingmedude School of Writing Harley Quinn. What do you guys think? Is her voice consistent? Is Pam's (after us switching for the last two chapters)?** **But the bonus question is...Pam's driver Alec. Who is he outside the AU? Can you tell me his superhero/villain name?**


	7. Chapter 7

**AmberZ10: Oh, Pammy. You big lez. How I've missed you.**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: And Harley, you big jumble of adorkableness, it feels like home!**

 **AmberZ10: OK, we're getting weird, let's just let them read the chapter. This was just an elaborate way to tell people I'm back to my usual Pammery and you're once again writing everyone's favorite jester.**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: You know what would have probably worked better?**

 **AmberZ10: Just to tell them? Yeah. Sorry. I blame the residual Harley in me.**

On Tuesday, Pamela's French class suggested supplemental reading for students wishing to "get ahead." Oh course Pamela fell into that category. So immediately after the last bell of the day, she crossed campus in search of the Martha Wayne Memorial Library.

"Pammy!" A voice stopped her as she ascended the stairs. Pamela turned around to find Diana Prince smiling a few feet behind her. "Just getting a head start on French." The taller girl informed her as she came to join Pamela on the 4th step. "And you?"

"Same." Pam smiled. She liked Diana, she really did, but it wasn't exactly common for them to hang out one on one. Diana was Bruce's friend, Bruce was Selina's boyfriend, and Selina was Pamela's friend. But there was truly nothing Pamela actively disliked about the girl, which was more than she could say for most people.

"We never got to catch up." Diana leaned against the railing behind her. "And not one phone call this summer? Not even a text message? I thought we were friends." She joked.

This was news to Pamela. Previously she'd regarded them as more associates than actual friends, but she wasn't opposed to the idea. Diana was kind and goal oriented, maybe even more so than Selina. Maybe they could get along as friends.

"I'm sorry." The redhead's tone was good-natured. "I guess I was too busy looking like 'Scooby-Goddamn-Doo'."

Diana laughed hearing Selina's phrase recycled. "Scooby Doo is the dog. Velma is the nerd."

"Oh." Pamela was suddenly a bit down on herself for not knowing everything. "Well anyway, how was your summer?"

The taller girl's eyes lit up. "Amazing."

"You were vacationing in Greece, correct?"

"Correct." Diana grinned. "Well…an island off Greece."

"Did Steve accompany you?" Pamela asked, referencing the boyfriend Diana had maintained for the last two years.

"No." Diana sighed. "Steve joined the Navy, you didn't hear?"

Pamela knew that he'd graduated last year, but she'd just assumed he was headed to a university. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's alright. We just decided it was best we take a step back." Diana waved it off. "I met someone new."

"So soon?" Pamela tried not to sound judgmental.

Diana shrugged. "It was just sort of perfect. She's a marine biology major on exchange in Greece, and—"

"I'm sorry," Pamela stopped her. "She?"

"Yeah." Diana confirmed like it was a silly question. "You'd like her, I think. Her name's Mera and she's a scientist like you. Actually…" She gave the girl in front of her another look over. "You guys sort of look alike. Her hair's a little curlier, but it's just as red, and her eyes are definitely that same green." Diana chuckled at the inside joke she was sharing with someone other than Pam. "Like sea glass."

"O-oh?" was all the redhead could manage.

"Yeah, I guess I'm essentially dating you." Diana laughed. "The difference is, she remembered to call me this summer." She winked a blue eye.

"Ha-ha!" That was a sound that had never come out of Pamela's mouth before. "Well good for—she sounds—yes. Mm."

Diana either didn't notice or didn't care about Pamela's awkwardness because she continued on like that was a totally normal response. "I can't wait for you guys to meet her. I think she'll really hit it off with you especially."

"Oh, yeah…I'm sure." Pamela recovered slightly. "Marine biology, huh? I'll have to brush up."

"Can you do it by Friday?" There was a twinkle in Diana's eye.

"She—she's coming to the party?" Pamela thought she might choke on the air she was forcing into her lugs.

Diana grinned. "She'll be here for a week starting Thursday. Isn't that just perfect timing?"

"So so perfect." Pamela agreed in a voice that was hardly her own. "Fantastic. Well…French?"

"Huh?" Diana was confused for a moment at the redhead's less-than-smooth transition before glancing up at the library ahead of them. "Oh, duh. Yeah, let's go." She led the way up the stairs. "Mera can't speak French, but she says she can speak dolphin."

"No she can't." Pamela answered abruptly prompting a laugh from the taller girl.

"Oh my god, she'll love you."

/

Harley checked the address for the fortieth time on the business card she was clutching tightly, then looked at the "house" that loomed in front of her and sighed. She wiggled her fingers and bravely poked the doorbell.

The faint strains of a classical tune pealed behind the door – _of course Pamela Lillian Isley's doorbell wouldn't settle for merely saying ding-dong_ , Harley giggled to herself.

While she waited – _for a butler? That would be sorta awesome_ – Harley checked the time on her phone. 7:02, not bad! She mentally high-fived herself for making it there pretty much on time. This neighborhood was too far for her to bike to, so she'd spent some time on the internet last night looking for the bus route that would get her the closest. This one meant she had to change buses twice, but at least she wasn't super late. Plus, the bus wasn't so bad – it meant she could put in her headphones, something she didn't like to do on her bike, and she'd blasted her Melt Your Face Off Metal Mix (Judas Priest, Pantera, all the greats) while skimming the last few chapters of her bio textbook again.

Harley hoped she'd studied enough that Pam wouldn't get annoyed and kick her out. This was her first interaction with another Gotham Prep student outside of school, and she really wanted it to go well for lots of reasons. Pam's bestie Selina was sort of grudgingly tolerating Harley, and she didn't want to piss Pam off and get uninvited from Selina's party this Friday.

Plus, she really needed the help, because for whatever reason science was the only class she struggled with.

Also, Pamela Isley was basically perfect in every measurable sense and her red hair was always shiny and every time Harley looked at her, she felt a little nervous and her skin got all tingly. She figured it was because of the huge difference in their social standing, at school and in the world at large.

And then the door was suddenly flung open and Harley was staring into green eyes and was that mascara? for a tutoring session? and yep, her hair was just as shiny and bouncy as always. Harley almost reached out to gently pull on one of those red waves, to see if it would _sproing_ back into place or just silkily settle itself into a new and equally glorious position. But she didn't, luckily. _Score one for impulse control!_

"Hello," said Pamela (Harley couldn't call her "Pam" when she looked this perfect). "You're a bit late. We should get started. Come in." She turned and went deeper into the house without looking back, and Harley only watched her walk away for a second before shaking her head and following. _A bit late? It was only two minutes._

"Door!" called Pam, and Harley ran back to shut it.

The house was even more ridiculously beautiful inside than out. All tastefully furnished, spotless, spacious and well lit. Harley's mouth hung open in awe at the art on the walls and the coordinated look of the furniture. They passed several tables that looked plenty big to study at – one table was about the size of Harley's living room at the apartment – but the redhead didn't slow down. It took Harley a minute to realize that Pam was wearing high heels, in her own home, for a tutoring session. Could a person be both a dork and a badass? Because Pamela Isley definitely was. She finally paused at the bottom of a sweeping staircase, and Harley almost knocked right into her.

"Would you care for anything to drink?" Pam asked, turning to her. "I'm afraid our only kitchen is downstairs, and we'll be conducting our tutoring session on the second floor."

Harley recognized some nervousness in the girl's seemingly confident tone, and decided to take advantage with a joke, hoping to help them both feel comfortable. So she _tsk_ ed at Pam and said, "I'm afraid these conditions simply won't do. I made it clear to Principal Waller that I would tolerate no fewer than three kitchens in the home of my biology tutor."

Pam only looked shocked for a second before she looked at Harley curiously, a slightly amused smirk playing on her lips- friendlier than Selina's- and said, "You're joking."

"Yep," Harley said, grinning now. "And no thanks, I'm good."

They climbed the stairs in silence – well, Harley climbed, Pam more _ascended_ – and made their way down a wide hall until Pam turned to the right and opened a door. "Here we are," she said, and Harley followed her in.

Oh, this was…this was Pamela's bedroom. "This is nicer than Regina George's room!" Harley blurted out.

Pam wrinkled her nose in confusion and for the first time, Harley wanted to describe her as 'cute' rather than her usual 'beautiful'. "Was she one of your classmates at Central? I don't think I know a Regina at Gotham Prep . . ."

"Oh – no, she – never mind," Harley said apologetically, making a mental note that Pamela hadn't seen Mean Girls. Harley turned around, taking everything in – the canopy bed, the seating area, the vanity with its large mirror…it all seemed a bit surreal, like Pamela was a fairytale princess living in a tower and somehow Harley had been given the key.

"I thought we could sit at the desk," said Pam, crossing to a large desk near the window with two chairs side by side.

"Yeah, yeah sure." Harley agreed, following her over, only slightly distracted by the elaborate basket of flowers that hung outside the girl's window.

They sat down a little awkwardly, and Harley fumbled to get her class things out of her bag. No, Harley sat down a little awkwardly, Pamela was elegance personified in her peach sundress. _So this is the casual Pam, huh?_ Harley smiled to herself when she saw color-coded Post-It flags that reached the halfway point in Pam's textbook – what a nerd! _Maybe there is no casual Pam._

"Let's begin," The redhead instructed after gently clearing her throat. She handed Harley a sheet of paper.

The blonde girl burst out laughing at the sight of it. "Nice one," she said. Pam was clearly a bit surprised at the outburst, but her expression didn't change. "Wait, are you serious? You're actually giving me a pop quiz?"

"Of course," said Pam as if it were self-evident. "How else am I supposed to assess your current level of proficiency?"

 _Thank god she smells so good and her house is so nice, or I'd be out of here._ Harley told herself, rolling her eyes and getting to work.

Harley watched the other girl as she read over the completed test. "Deoxyribose Nucleic Acid. Not 'Oxyribose.' Where do you think the 'D' in 'DNA' comes from?" The redhead asked, not looking up from the paper.

"Oh…that's sorta basic, huh?" Harley flushed.

"It is, yes." Pamela said distractedly as she made another red mark on the paper. "Well it appears it would behoove us to start at the beginning. When are you expected home?"

"My mom knows where I am." Harley answered plainly as she scooted a little closer to the redhead, looking over her shoulder at the paper. She thought she felt the other girl bristle slightly, but she didn't move away, so neither did Harley.

After about an hour and a half, they'd actually made some progress – the concepts made more sense coming from Pam's flawlessly stained lips than they ever did from Woodrue's oily smile. Pam had even made little sounds two or three times that Harley thought were meant to be encouraging.

"I think that's enough for tonight," Pam decided once Harley felt confident in her knowledge of osmosis. The redhead stood abruptly. Harley assumed she was being kicked out and started thinking about bus times as she packed her backpack, so she almost missed it when the other girl said- a bit more quietly- "Would you like to see something?"

"I never say no to that," Harley grinned, happy that the girl had been kind about Harley's clearly inferior acumen. She thought she saw a blush color Pam's cheeks at the comment and the blonde's smile broadened.

/

Pamela stood in front of the full length mirror in her walk-in closet. It was 6:00 on the dot which meant she had an hour to prepare herself for Harley's arrival. A tutor must make a good impression on their pupil, after all. Pamela wanted to wear something casual, but not so casual that it communicated this engagement didn't matter to her…of course it did. This Harley girl needed tutoring and Pamela was the most qualified to do it to her. Do it for her. Do it with her? Pamela closed her eyes as that familiar heat crept beneath her skin. _Stop it, Pamela. Just stop._

Pamela wasn't an idiot, quite the opposite in fact. Pamela was a genius. She knew what it meant to be attracted to someone, she'd studied the effects of pheromones in nature, she knew the current theories on sexuality and that attraction in human beings goes deeper than simply a physiological need to reproduce…she could be attracted to a girl. And she…was, likely. Yes, she was attracted to this Harley girl. That was it. She found her sexually stimulating for one reason or another, and that- the 'why' of it- was more difficult to nail down. So, 'why'. Well…Harley was objectively attractive, that was irrefutable. But there was something more, something…deeper. Pamela hadn't known her long enough to figure out what that was just yet, their conversations so far had been brief, but in a one-on-one context, Pamela was sure she'd understand soon enough the reason for her bizarre hormonal reaction to this girl every time she looked in her direction.

Pamela hadn't ever felt this way about a boy…just other girls. And now Pamela was 17 and she was growing concerned. What if this was simply the way she was? What if it wasn't just residual excitement from she and Selina's 'experiments'? What if, unlike Selina, she was solely attracted to girls? What would her mother say? And her father…what would Selina say? Perhaps Diana would be a better confidant…but why did Diana have to travel 6,000 miles to find a redheaded, green eyed science major? She'd had one right here all along. Diana had known Pam since they were in the 7th grade, so what was wrong with her? What was so much better or different about this Mera girl? And most importantly- why had Diana acted like it was all perfectly fine and OK?

Pamela refocused on the task at hand. A dress. She would wear a dress. She thumbed through her selection a bit distractedly until she decided on the peach sundress Selina had purchased her for her birthday last year. It was flattering and the perfect semi-casual look for a pleasant evening in late August.

It was 45 minutes past the hour by the time Pamela was dressed and her makeup retouched. She pulled on a pair of cream and cork platforms to complete the look and headed downstairs to wait in the foyer.

At 7pm, she began to panic slightly. When one says '7pm sharp' they mean either right then or roughly 10-15 minutes before. Pamela's insides turned when the clock surpassed the hour, making it 7:01. Harley was already a minute late. _She's not coming_. And then…7:02, the doorbell rang. Pam's heart leapt into her throat as her stomach turned with a flurry of tingling flutters. _You are perfect, Pamela_. She reminded herself as she mustered the courage to reach for the door handle. _You are the most beautiful and most intelligent young woman this girl has ever met. She is lucky you've agreed to pass on your expertise_.

Riding her sudden swell of courage, Pamela swung the door open and… those eyes, so blue…"Hello." Was the best greeting she could manage. And then Pamela's eyes fell to Harley's t-shirt which read "I don't sweat, I sparkle" and she was down the rabbit hole of "I wonder if that's true" so fast that she had to shut it down the best way she knew how- abrupt semi-dis-contentedness. "You're a bit late. We should get started. Come in."

 **Bonus question: What do you guys think? Is Pam gay or is she gay? Also, what are some other t-shirts Harley might wear in the future?**


	8. Chapter 8

**AmberZ10: Do you think this format is working?**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: You mean, the internet? Yeah, I think it's our only option.**

 **AZ10: What? No- I mean the switching authors and POV thing. And how we sometimes write the same scene from two different perspectives but we don't always end up in the same place. Do you...think that's confusing?**

 **AYKMD: WE WRITE THE SAME SCENE FROM TWO DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVES?**

 **AZ: ...Yes. Like all the time. And why are you yelling?**

 **AY: I THOUGHT THIS STORY WAS LIKE GROUNDHOG DAY**

 **AZ:...Are you OK?**

The two girls retraced their steps out of the bedroom and toward the majestic staircase, walking in comfortable silence. This time, Harley walked beside Pam instead of trailing behind her – their tutoring session had helped her feel slightly more confident about more than just biology. _Or maybe biology is exactly what this is_ , Harley mused, and the thought startled her so that she would have tripped and missed the top stair if Pam hadn't reflexively caught her around the waist.

They froze, teetering on the precipice – Pam had one foot on the landing and one on the top stair, one arm tight around Harley's waist, the other hand digging into Harley's hip to keep her from falling, and Harley was crouched slightly, her feet one step below each of Pam's. Pam's breath was warm on the side of Harley's neck, and the complex smell of her perfume and her conditioner and just . . . her was all Harley could breathe in.

The blonde girl straightened up slightly to show Pam that she'd regained her footing, and she thought she heard a tiny gasp as her back brushed the other girl. Pam stiffened even further, then stepped back. Harley put a hand to her heart and turned slightly to grin up at her, relieved, clutching the banister for support. "How – the hell – did you do that _in heels_?" she panted.

Pam's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then she smiled that little smirk of hers. "Oh, Harleen, I was born in heels," she said, and she moved confidently down the staircase.

"Aw, a tiny little baby Pam in tiny little high heels! My next tattoo," Harley babbled as she followed, and Pam snorted.

Instead of heading out the front door, Pam turned the opposite way. "Are you taking me out back to murder me and dispose of my body?" Harley said. _You don't have to say every word you think!_ she reminded herself.

Pam stopped and turned, looking at her mock pensively. Her internal calculus seemed to once again equate to 'Harley was joking,' because her eyes glimmered and she put one exquisitely manicured hand on her hip. "Silly girl. If I'd wanted you dead, I would simply have let you go bowling head over heels down the stairs like you so obviously wanted to," she said before turning and leading the way out the back door.

The sun had just gone down, and tasteful floodlights illuminated the back yard. Harley thought she spotted a hedge maze.

Just before they turned a corner, Pam stopped suddenly again and held out a hand. "Close your eyes," she said with a smile, and Harley didn't hesitate to obey.

She swallowed hard, taking tentative steps as they walked on, rounding the corner. "Keep them closed," Pam murmured, pausing, and Harley heard the click of a latch, the flick of a light switch before Pam tugged her forward a few more steps.

Her hand was warm and dry against Harley's, her fingers long and elegant, and Harley hoped her own palm wasn't sweating as badly as she feared. Then Pam whispered, "Open them!" – and Harley did.

She blinked a little against the sudden dazzle of a brightly lit greenhouse, until her eyes adjusted. "Wow," Harley breathed, looking around slowly, taking in the lush greens, the occasional fireworks where flowers bloomed. She'd been to a botanical garden once on a third-grade school field trip, and she still remembered the sudden rush of heat when they entered the greenhouse, the moisture in the air, the chirping of insects. Harley had begged her mom to take her back there, but there was never time.

And that was nothing compared to Pamela Isley's greenhouse.

As Harley's eyes continued their circuit, they flicked briefly up to Pam's – and she found herself unable to look away from the piercing green gaze. Pam was watching her intently, seemingly as rapt as Harley in that moment, though for the life of her Harley couldn't figure out why.

"You like it?" Pam said, eager and shy all at once. Harley bit her lip and nodded, and it was only when she tried to gesture around the room that she realized they were still holding hands.

They let go at the same time, grinning, both a little pink-cheeked. "This place is amazing," Harley said. "Can I just move in? I can put my sleeping bag right over there by that – cactus-y looking thing."

Pam followed her gaze and said automatically, " _Leptocereus arboreus_. Native to the Caribbean. They're extremely rare, almost unknown except to experts."

"Are you a cactus expert?" Harley said, fully expecting the answer to be yes.

Pam shrugged demurely. "I like plants," she said simply. "I plan to study botany."

"What do you use the greenhouse for?" Harley asked. "And can I –?"

"Oh yes, please feel free to wander around," said Pam. "I use it mostly for research purposes. Genetics and interbreeding are subjects I find particularly fascinating, so I use these specimen to conduct my experiments."

Harley had wandered to a corner in the back, where flowers bloomed more brightly than anywhere else. "I'll say it again . . . wow," she said.

"Those are mine. Completely unique specimens. My own intellectual property." Pam said, and this time there was pride mixed with the shyness.

"You mean you…made these?" Harley's eyes were wide with amazement.

Pam nodded, a smile lighting her eyes.

Harley walked back over to her. "You are just full of surprises," she said quietly, slowing as she neared the other girl, but not stopping – somehow she couldn't stop inching closer – until their feet were almost touching, and their eyes were locked together again, and Pam's lips parted slightly in surprise, and if Harley just reached out a tiny bit she could put a hand on Pam's hip. She knew, she just _knew_ that this perfect glorious creature would let her, too.

But then a church bell rang out in the distance, and Harley said "Shit!" as she realized that it must be 9pm already. Pam's face fell, but she quickly covered it with a stony expression that honestly scared Harley a little. "No, not – I mean – I said 'shit' because it's 9 already – see?' Harley said a bit desperately, whipping out her phone to show Pam the time.

Pam looked slightly mollified, but still confused. Harley sighed. "The next bus is at 9:11, and it's a 10-minute walk," she explained, torn between bolting for the door and staying to explain.

"There's a _bus_?" Pam said, sounding so thoroughly shocked that Harley burst out laughing. She squeezed the redhead's arm affectionately and pecked her on the cheek. "Took three of them, but yeah. By the way, you're the best tutor ever," she said impulsively, then ran out into the night.

Harley barely caught the bus, and as she sank onto a seat near the back, her phone buzzed.

It was a text from an unknown number. **_Do you not have a car?_**

Harley smiled. **_if I had a car, would I bike 45 minutes to school?_** she typed back.

 ** _I assumed you were merely being environmentally conscious_** , came the reply.

 ** _nope, just environmentally car-less_**. Harley hit Send before she could think better of it.

 ** _Was that a pun?_** Harley could picture Pam's exact face – probably the cute little nose wrinkle.

 ** _not a good one_** , she admitted, already awaiting Pam's reply, which came almost instantly.

To Harley's surprise, they texted her whole way home.

They texted while Harley kissed her brothers hello and apologized to her mom for being so late.

They texted past Pam's self-imposed 10pm bedtime, though Harley didn't know that at the time.

And Pam's **_Good night_** was the last thing Harley saw before she closed her eyes, smiling.

/

Pamela forced her eyes up to look at the girl. Fighting through her baseless adolescent nervousness, she asked: "Would you like to see something?"

"I never say no to that," was Harley's cheeky response and Pamela had no choice but to blush.

 _She didn't mean it like that! Honestly, Pamela._ She thought about telling the blonde to follow her, but decided that was implied and simply started for the door instead. Harley was on her feet quickly, walking side by side with Pamela down the hallway. Pamela perceived Harley as a rather talkative person, and so when she was silent, the redhead took it as her cue that she should stay silent as well. She wasn't quite sure what their rapport was exactly. Harley certainly wasn't Selina, her humor wasn't quite as biting, but she did seem to like to make jokes. Pamela was naturally quick-witted – it seemed to come as a package deal with her advanced IQ – so it wasn't replying humorously that she found daunting; it was striking the right tone.

Just as they reached the top of the staircase, Pamela tingled slightly as Harley's bare arm bumped up against hers, but she soon realized it wasn't intentional – the other girl was falling. In a purely autonomic response, Pamela grabbed Harley around the waist with her racquet arm, which was naturally much stronger (thank goodness) and stopped the girl's stumble before it turned ugly.

Harley's arm jutted out to steady herself further on the banister as she straightened up, her back brushing lightly against Pam's chest, and Pamela instinctively stepped back. "How – the hell – did you do that _in heels_?" Harley asked.

Pam was still too preoccupied with the memory of the girl's tight stomach beneath her fingertips to truly comprehend what she was saying, but when her brain caught up and she realized she'd received a compliment, she fell back into her usual confidence rather easily. "Oh, Harleen, I was born in heels."

Despite her confidence, though, Pamela's heart began to beat faster as they approached the greenhouse. As they rounded the final corner, Pamela stopped. She had one of the most impressive private greenhouses in the country. Harley would be surprised, she would be amazed…she'd need something to anchor herself, something like…Pamela's hand. "Close your eyes," the redhead instructed as she offered it to her, and to Pamela's absolute delight, the girl took it almost immediately.

"Keep them closed." Pamela nearly whispered as she led Harley by the hand. She was walking slower than usual; one can never be too cautious when leading someone blind. She could trip! That would be embarrassing for her. So Pamela squeezed her hand a bit tighter, enamored by the feel of Harley's calloused palm against her smooth one as she fumbled with the latch and the light switch. "Open them."

Pamela rarely felt lonely, but later, after Harley had left, the house felt a bit empty. It was always empty, well…usually, anyway, but Pamela had preferred the silence until Harley ran out so suddenly, leaving her alone with only her flowers. They'd been so close, only a breath apart. And Pamela knew that if she'd leaned in, just barely…but then the time, and did Harley truly not have a car? That was a question that couldn't wait until literature class the next morning.

She made her way quickly back to the main house after locking up the greenhouse. She sat down on the couch with her phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Hey, bitch." Was Selina's greeting.

"I thought I was 'slut.'"

"You can be both, hon. I know I am." Selina laughed, never failing to amuse herself.

Pamela rolled her eyes. "I need that Quinzel girl's number."

"Why?" Selina asked, although her voice was slightly drowned out by what sounded like a blender in the background. "Hey, Pammy? Did you know kale still tastes like shit if you drink it? Turns out that doesn't change."

"I happen to like the taste of kale." Pamela's reply was haughty, as she wanted Selina to stay on task. "Harley's number. I need it."

"Her name is Crotch Rocket." Selina informed her. "And what's your deal? You have a thing for her or something?"

"No." Pamela said, way too defensively. "I'm her biology tutor. And that's a stupid nickname."

"Oh, suck my dick!" Selina shouted.

Pamela was offended at her friend's evident lack of anatomical knowledge. "You don't have one!"

"My smoothie spilled. I was talking to my blender." Selina explained quickly, her face obviously a few feet away as it seemed she'd put Pam on speaker. "But if I did, you would. Everyone would. Bruce would."

"Selina, please." Pam attempted to rein her back in before this became another conversation about Selina's sex life.

"Fine. Yeah, I have Quinzel's number," she admitted. "But you have to put her in your phone as 'Crotch Rocket.' I want photo evidence."

Pam groaned at her friend's childishness. "Fine."

"Yay!" Selina squealed. "OK, it's coming at you. Love you, babe."

"Yeah, sure." Pamela hung up.

 **Bonus question: Besides kale, what else do you think is in Selina's smoothie?**


	9. Chapter 9

**areyoukiddingmedude regrets to inform you that, due to uncontrollable laughing fits brought on by Selina's three-word response to Pam's dress in this chapter, she is currently indisposed to either a) find or b) create a dialogue to open today's chapter.**

Ever since the tutoring session in Pam's room, the greenhouse, the almost . . . whatever that was, Harley's bike ride to school hadn't seemed nearly as long.

Okay, so it had only been two days, but still. She felt lighter, happier, more relaxed – more like Harley Quinzel in all her glory, instead of the poor little transfer kid she'd acted like on day 1.

It didn't hurt that she and Pam were now pretty regular texting buddies, either. Harley had saved her number as GreenGirl, intuiting that their blossoming . . . friendship? was a one-on-one thing for now. And that was actually oddly fine with her – she'd sat with Edward Nygma and Jonathan Crane at lunch on Thursday like normal, while Pam sat with her usual crew. Harley liked the way Pam flashed a mysterious little smile and quickly looked away every time their eyes met across the cafeteria, and she'd even risked sending a text just to see Pam's reaction:

 ** _this text is coming from INSIDE THE CAFETERIA_**

She watched as Pam's brow furrowed slightly when her phone buzzed, and then as she visibly relaxed when she saw it was from Harley, and then as she stifled a little giggle when she read the message, her eyes flicking up to Harley's and her cheeks reddening the tiniest bit.

Harley didn't mind, really, that she didn't text her back right then. She was probably busy with her friends or with 'Pam stuff,' and Selina's eyes had narrowed as soon as Pam took out her phone, more so when she covered her little laugh. They'd probably text that evening anyway. So Harley was fine with it.

And sure enough, the second gymnastics practice ended, she got a simple question: **_Should I be afraid?_**

Harley felt a flutter in her stomach and grinned to herself as she quickly typed back: **_just watch your back. I'm sorta like a ninja ;)_**

Once again, they'd texted on and off throughout the evening, ending with Pam's **_Good night_**.

Now Harley was pedaling up to the school on a Friday morning, a bit brisk for August but still perfect biking weather. _It's like Mary Poppins said_ , she thought: _Just a spoonful of rehashing your texting history with your biology tutor helps the biking go faster._

"Why so happy?" oozed a voice behind her as she was hopping off her bike. Without turning around, Harley knew it was the sleazy green-haired boy who'd taken a liking to her since her first day at Gotham Prep.

"I wasn't aware that one needed a reason to be happy," Harley said, affecting a haughty voice as she chained her bike to its usual tree. She started to walk up to the school, but he grabbed her upper arm hard, trapping her in place. Harley whirled. "Hey! Not cool!" she said angrily, looking him in the eye as she tried to pry his fingers loose with her other hand.

He ignored her efforts to free herself and pulled her close, his bony fingers digging into her biceps, his long face twisted in a sneer as he said, "Listen up, charity case. I told you before – you don't want to get on my bad side. My father–"

" _Let her go_ ," said a voice from the front steps of the school, a voice filled with cold fury – a voice that Harley knew even before she turned and saw her belonged to none other than Pamela Isley herself.

She was beautifully lit by the morning rays of the sun, her hair shining like the burnished shield of a Roman warrior, her eyes cold and dead as she stared down the boy with the green hair. For some reason Harley couldn't imagine this early, she was coming _out_ of the school, and time seemed to slow down as Harley looked around, absorbing every detail of the scene.

She saw Selina Kyle coming up from the parking lot, her Corvette key ring frozen in mid-twirl as she looked up at her best friend, suspicious and calculating.

She heard the buzz of conversation cease as nearby students instinctively tuned in to the showdown occurring on the front walk.

And she felt his fingers squeeze cruelly tight around her arm for a split second before he released her. "Well, well, well," he said, falsely jovial, "it appears I'm not the only special friend you've made in your short time matriculating with us."

He addressed the group at large: "Carry on, peons!" and shot one last venomous look at Pam before skulking off toward the bleachers.

Harley swallowed hard, still frozen in place as Selina swept past her and hustled Pam inside. She looked after them and swore that she caught a glimpse of green eyes before the door swung shut. Then Edward was there, breathlessly recapping the event, and the moment was over.

 _Ugh, what a creep_ , Harley thought as she headed to her locker to drop off books she wouldn't need until later that day. She fumbled with the combination a couple of times before her lock finally clicked.

Something was different.

Her locker smelled amazing, which was a first, and on the shelf near the top Harley saw a beautifully designed box that she knew wasn't hers.

Harley checked the lockers to either side – _nope, right locker number_ – and then curiosity got the better of her, and she untied the ribbon on the box.

Inside was an envelope with her name in picture-perfect script, and inside the envelope was a cream card with green calligraphy: PLI. Harley couldn't help the smile that lit her whole face when she recognized those initials, and she held her breath as she opened the card to read:

 _Dear Harley,_

 _I believe I mentioned that my mother works for a cosmetics company? As a result, she has access to their skin care and makeup line before the products are available in stores._

 _Perhaps you'd enjoy their upcoming line. Please forgive me if you're not actually a winter – I thought these would complement your skin tone nicely._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Pam_

Under the card were bottles of face lotion and toner, tubes of lip gloss and mascara, eyeshadow and eyeliner and blush. Harley had never gotten this much makeup at once in her entire life, and she was grateful for her locker door to hide her dopey grin behind.

 _What a sweet, thoughtful, ass-kicking, dorky human being she is_ , Harley thought.

And she only managed to dial the grin back from a 10 to an 8 before the first bell rang.

/

"Dayum, Pammy! You are making that hat work!" Selina's head popped up in the mirror behind her.

"I know." Pam assured her as she adjusted the wide-brimmed hat on her head. It was fine before, but she was (of course) aiming for unadulterated perfection.

"Well?" Selina prompted. Her eyebrows were raised expectantly at Pam in the mirror.

"Well?" Pam repeated as she applied her lipstick, not understanding what Selina wanted from her.

"Do I look sexy or what?!" the brunette demanded.

Pamela reluctantly stood and turned around to see her friend in a bright red pantsuit. The fitted slacks were buttoned high on her waist and clung tight to her toned thighs. The jacket boasted shoulder pads appropriate for the genre and crossed over her chest in a double-breasted cinching pattern. Selina truly did look like she'd stepped off a Film Noir movie set.

Selina posed suggestively against the doorway. "Am I pulling this off or am I pulling this off?"

Pam smiled. "If you know the answer, why do you ask the question?"

"Because I like hearing _your_ answer, Pammy." Selina smirked. "That's what friends are for, to inflate one another's already massive egos. Ours are, of course, deserved. We walk the walk. Speaking of which…" Selina leered at the other girl. "Give me a twirl. Let's see the back."

Pamela laughed and quickly complied, turning to show her a more complete view of the emerald, single strapped silk and chiffon gown.

"DAT ASS THO." The brunette laughed.

Pam looked over her shoulder just as Bruce entered the room. "Maybe I picked the wrong girl," he lamented when he received a suggestive wink from the redhead.

Selina cupped her hand to her ear. "Do you hear that? That's the sound of someone not getting laid tonight."

"Not by you, anyway." He joked. "What do you say, Pam? Want to make somebody jealous?"

"Oh, no way." Selina stated before Pam could respond with something adequately suggestive, "Been there, done that. Believe me when I say you two aren't compatible." She turned away to adjust Bruce's tie before she could see Pamela's face blush completely crimson.

The other guests started trickling in soon after, either parking their luxury vehicles on the street or having their drivers drop them off by the front door. In no time at all Selina's museum-like house was filled with their Gotham Prep classmates, all adhering strictly to the theme because it was a well-known fact that at a Selina Kyle party, compliance to the theme was mandatory. The alcohol was flowing almost immediately and thank god Selina's dad was a well-stocked alcoholic because they were already running a bit low on the spirits they'd purchased.

Pamela didn't much care for parties because Pamela- honestly- didn't much care for people. Pamela Isley also didn't drink. She'd tried once in a similar setting her freshman year, but it had made her feel so terribly out of control that she'd let her temper get the best of her. It was not a good night. Pamela didn't like the idea of forfeiting cognitive function, and she knew the negative effects of alcohol on the adolescent brain. Earning a PhD and the Nobel Prize would require a healthy and fully-formed frontal lobe, something that she knew drinking could hinder the development of. So Pamela quickly settled into her usual role at Selina's parties and began making laps to ensure no one was vomiting in any of Mr. Kyle's priceless vases.

She wasn't obsessively watching the front door, just glancing at it every so often. Harley had assured her over text that she'd come, and after the gift Pamela left in her locker, the redhead was confident her pupil had the tools to comply with the theme. _The bus_ , Pamela reminded herself, _she's late because she has to take the bus_.

"Hey." A hand tapped her shoulder.

Pam hoped it was Harley, but found Diana instead, standing next to…Mera. Pamela quickly compared their attributes, since they really did look strikingly similar. Maybe not twins, but a case for siblings could easily be made. Mera was a bit older- _probably 19_ , Pam thought- her breasts were smaller, her face slightly longer, her eyes a bit bluer…Diana was right to describe them as "sea glass." And of course she was also wearing a green dress, although hers was more 'office girl' and less 'evening gown,' much to Pamela's relief.

"Hi! So glad you could make it." Pam leaned in to kiss Diana on both cheeks. "This must be Mera."

"And you must be Pamela," the other redhead guessed with a smile. "Diana's been so excited for me to meet her friends."

"You were last on the list because we had to sneak Selina and Bruce in before they went off the deep end." Diana explained, a drink in her hand.

"I'm flattered that you knew I'd be sober." Pam chuckled.

"Well, I thought you two might want to talk about seaweed or something so I decided we should get the less meaningful socializing out of the way first." Diana grinned.

"I'm so sorry," Mera suddenly grabbed Pam's arm. "Is it conceited of me to say how pretty you are? Since we look so much alike? Because I'm serious, you're absolutely gorgeous."

Diana laughed. "And she's dating me, so you know she has good taste."

"Thank you." Pamela smiled good-naturedly at the pair standing in front of her. She was pleased she was avoiding most of the awkwardness she'd exhibited on Tuesday. "And I'm not sure it's conceited if it's true."

"I like the way you think," Mera was saying as Diana looked over Pamela's shoulder and scowled. "What's the matter?" Mera asked.

"Who invited that asshole?"

Pam followed her gaze and found Diana was referring to that J kid with the green hair. He was walking around shoving a camera in people's faces and Pamela had half a mind to yell at him again, but she restrained herself, deciding that could be Bruce's job.

"That's certainly an interesting choice of hair color…" Mera narrowed her eyes at the boy.

"It throws off the aesthetic." Pam mumbled, glancing again at the front door.

"So Diana tells me you're interested in botany?" The other redhead prompted.

Pam pulled her attention back to the conversation at hand. "Yes. But I am equally proficient with Chemistry. Biochemistry especially. Actually, I—"

"PAMMY!" Selina's voice carried over the music and conversations. "PAMMY, GET OVER HERE!"

"That sounds like our illustrious host." Mera smirked.

Pam sighed. "That it does. Will you excuse me for a moment?"

"With Selina it will be a lot longer than a moment." Diana chuckled. "Especially after a few shots."

Pam offered a charming "Well, a girl can hope, right?" before forging through the crowd in search of Selina. She found the brunette clutching her cellphone to her ear in the open kitchen.

"Tell this fucker I need 15 cheese pizzas," she said, desperation in her voice.

Pam was incredulous. "You can't do that yourself?"

"He thinks it's a prank."

"Ugh." The redhead groaned as she snatched the phone away. "Listen," she told the man on the other end. "We have 80 hungry adolescents here that will either eat your pizza or the guy's down the block. Listen to the tone of my voice, does this sound like I'm making a joke? No. I'm not. 15 cheese pizzas. Fulfill the order and I will personally walk down to the curb and pay for it." Then she hung up and handed the phone back to Selina, who was laughing uncontrollably.

"You're such a party mom." Selina wheezed.

"Yeah, and without me you wouldn't be getting pizza, so count your blessings."

"Yes, Ma'am." The brunette giggled before her face morphed into a scowl similar to Diana's. "That piece of…"

"Ladies…" J greeted them, slinking up to Selina's kitchen island with his video camera pointed at them.

"Can we help you?" Pam spat.

"Not particularly. I just need an attentive audience." His voice made Pamela want to take a shower. "Hey, douchebags!" He addressed the party-goers filling the living room. "Ready to hear the results?"

Selina crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes when their audience cheered. "What results?"

"Of my poll, of course." He grinned. "The question was, my two queen bees, 'Mirror, mirror on the wall, why is the fairest of them all? Selina Kyle or Pamela Isley?'"

"Oh, fuck off you Avril Lavigne-Looking-Motherfucker." Selina's arms were still crossed but it was clear she wanted to punch him. "My parents just got the floor refinished and I don't want to have to mop up your slime trail."

"Come on, guys…" He turned back to the audience. "Don't you want to know?" More cheers followed and he shrugged at the girls. "I think we're going to have to give the people what they want."

Selina rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Then you're getting the fuck out of my house. K, Sk8er Boi?"

Pam stared him down as well. "No need to make things _Complicated_."

Selina belly laughed and gave her friend a high-five. "Dude, our 2007 pop culture humor is on lock."

"Who knew it would ever be applicable to—"

"ALL RIGHT!" The boy interrupted, clearly peeved at how they were brushing this whole thing off. "Can I get a drumroll, please?" It was provided by some enabler in the crowd and the boy cleared his throat, holding the camera up to record the girls' reactions. "Gotham Prep has spoken, and the winner is…"

Pamela didn't like the way her name sounded rolling off J's tongue, and she certainly didn't like the way the color drained from Selina's face when he said it. Cheers of what appeared to be agreement erupted, and the external validation was so great that Pamela truly had no choice but to accept the praise with a smile. The other girl seemed stunned at first, looking from the camera to Pamela to the crowd…

Then Selina smiled too, but in a way that Pamela knew to be wary of. There was something dangerous in that smile.

"How about we call it a draw?" Selina suggested, and before Pam knew what was happening, lips were moving against hers. Soft lips. Familiar lips. Selina's lips, and Pam found herself kissing back far too quickly.

 _No_ \- she pushed the other girl away. "Don't do that." Pam whispered, her voice pained, breathing labored.

"What?" There was a mischievous glint in the brunette's eye. "This?" And the lips returned, accompanied by a tongue this time and delicate hands threaded through thick red locks. Pamela knew she'd let it go on too long, knew she was kissing back and hated herself for the little moan she let escape. And this time it was Selina who broke the seal. "Well? What do you think?" She asked the cheering crowd. "Tie?" Her question was met with uproarious applause and Pam had never been so mortified in her life.

Until she looked away from Selina and into a pair of startling blue eyes, eyes that radiated shock and hurt even across a crowded room.

 **Bonus question: Name the** ** _Batman: The Animated Series_** **Episode where Ivy wears the wide-brimmed hat and trench coat**


	10. Chapter 10

**Real conversations between real authors #3:**

 **AmberZ10: PAM IS HOPEFULLY A BRUNCH MANIAC**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: You'll just have to see how I banshee this divisive issue**

 **AmberZ10: ...with her Pam-cakes and her Pam-ergranite juice**

 **aykmd: That was supposed to say "handle"**

 **AZ10: I prefer banshee**

 **aykmd: but banshee is so much better so I left it**

 **aykmd: RIGHT?!**

Harley strolled along the nicest street in Gotham, ogling the ornate mansions, hands in her pockets, having one of those moments where you're just happy to be alive. She smiled, remembering Pam's **_Just confirming your RSVP_** text, like this was some black-tie gala.

And did Pamela Isley text every person who was invited to confirm their attendance? Harley thought probably not.

She swallowed down a lump of nerves, pausing as she approached the busy Kyle mansion. The party was already in full swing, and it felt to Harley a bit like her first day at Gotham Prep all over again. _If I leave now, I can still catch a bus home_ , she thought.

Then her mind drifted to Pam again, and she wondered absently what the redhead was wearing, and Harley wasn't all that surprised when her feet started moving again on their own.

She smoothed down the front of her white button-down shirt as she approached the house – the party's theme had stressed her out almost more than the party itself since it wasn't like she could just go out and buy something, but in the end Harley was happy with the outfit she'd been able to pull together. Her shirt was tucked into a pair of black dress pants that fit her pretty well, just grazing the tops of her shiny black shoes. The only pair of suspenders she could find in the house were black with little red diamonds on them – her dad had some odd taste in clothes, and Harley hoped they fit the theme okay.

Her hair provided another challenge. Harley had been toying with the question of biking vs busing it, right up until the time she left, so she'd decided that pants would be better than a dress, and to fit with the outfit and the time period she'd slicked her blonde hair back. It was a little Draco Malfoy, but once she'd given herself a makeover using the products Pam had snuck into her locker, Harley had to admit that with the suspenders and her red lips and slicked-back hair and darkly lined eyes, the contrast worked.

She was in front of the house now, and as she approached the open front gate someone suddenly dropped down off the stone wall and landed right behind her.

Harley whirled. "Jonathan!" she laughed in relief. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Her lunchtime companion looked at her oddly, said "Good," and ran off into the yard.

 _Guess some people started early tonight_ , Harley thought. _Or maybe right on time_ , she amended – she'd been at the mercy of the bus schedule and couldn't be there right when the party started. Shaking off the weird encounter with Jonathan, she headed through the gate. She hadn't gone 10 feet when a voice said, "Hello, Harley" from the shadows.

Harley jumped straight into the air this time, coming down in a (completely fake) 'karate' pose. She relaxed as her classmate Talia Al Ghul materialized from the shadows. "Hey, Talia," she said. "Just . . . hanging out in the shadows?"

Talia nodded seriously. "It's cuz I'm an assassin," she said, slurring her words slightly.

 _Jesus, I need one of those drinks!_ Harley thought. "Of course you are," she said supportively.

"My dad is immortal," said Talia, and when Harley gave her a cheerful grin and a thumbs up ( _how else do you respond to that?_ ), Talia looked satisfied and slunk back into the shadows.

Harley shook her head and walked up to the dauntingly huge front door, mentally debating whether to bang one of the giant knockers ( _heh_ ) or to just try saying _Open Sesame_. But then a group of students ran right past her and threw the door wide open, so Harley followed them in.

She let out a low whistle as she scanned the cavernous front hallway. Selina's parents had more opulent taste than Pam's, whose home had been (for the tax bracket) relatively understated. "Wouldn't be surprised if we all played 'Spin the Suit of Armor' later," Harley muttered to herself.

"Not bad," said a dry voice from the parlor. _Sitting room? Some room, anyway_ , Harley thought. She leaned through the doorway and saw a girl standing in the dimly lit room, her arms crossed. "But I think this crowd will jump right to 'Seven Minutes in Ibiza.'" Harley quirked an eyebrow at the stranger, who shrugged. "Couldn't think of a rich-people vacation destination that started with 'H.'"

Harley laughed at that. "Well, funny girl hanging out alone in the dark, what do they call you?" she said.

The girl came closer, and in the light from the hallway Harley could see that she had dark shoulder-length hair, blue-almost-violet eyes, and a knowing smirk. She was wearing a sleeveless sheath dress, gloves that went past the elbow, and a cloak draped over her shoulders – all in a rich purple shade that brought out her eyes. " _They_ call me Rachel. Rachel Roth," she said. "But _I_ prefer to go by Raven."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Harley," Harley said. "Do you go to Gotham Prep?"

Raven snorted. "No. I'm just a friend of Dick Grayson's. From way out of town. He drags me to these things in an effort to get me to 'socialize.'"

"Is he around?" said Harley, thinking that where Dick Grayson was, a certain redhead might also be.

"Last time I saw him, he was doing flips off a chandelier in the ballroom," Raven said with a half-shrug. "Don't ask. I swear that boy thinks he's a goddamn circus performer when he's had a few."

"Okay, well, I'm going to go find my . . . biology tutor," Harley said, biting her cheek for being so awkwardly precise in defining their relationship. "See ya." Raven retreated back into the dark room as Harley made her way down the cavernous hallway.

She smoothed the front of her shirt again, nervously anticipating seeing said biology tutor. Would Pam even want to hang out with Harley when her shiny rich friends were around? Or should Harley just hide on the fringes, like Raven and Talia and Jonathan? Being here at Selina's personal invitation, at Pam's urging, but not being a part of the main group put her in an uncomfortable state of purgatory.

Two girls passed her, heading the opposite direction. "Did you see Bruce Wayne tonight?" one of them giggled.

"Oh my god, I know! Wearing a cape and crying in the corner? He's still so hot, though."

 _Weirdest party ever_ , Harley thought, shaking her head.

There was a burst of noise to one side, and Harley followed it, finding herself near the back of a large open kitchen where a crowd of students had gathered. It was their cheering that Harley had heard from the hall.

The Kyles' kitchen featured a brick pizza oven, a refrigerator larger than her bedroom . . . and yet Harleen Quinzel registered none of its state-of-the-art features, because her attention was entirely captivated by the scene playing out near the kitchen island.

There was Selina, swaying a bit in a red suit that looked like something out of _Dick Tracy_.

There was J, his green hair oddly balanced by his garish purple zoot suit, holding a video camera on Selina and . . .

There was Pam. She wore an evening gown the exact color of her eyes, and her red hair was pinned back from one cheek, the curls cascading down the other side, leaving one shoulder bare. She was the most beautiful person Harley had ever seen, and while Harley hadn't felt many of the big romantic clichés in her short and not-that-romantic life . . . her fucking heart skipped a beat in her chest.

While she was recovering from that, she saw Selina's eyes dance over the crowd, and Harley _knew_ the second she saw her because for some reason, those catlike eyes narrowed when they met Harley's and Selina smiled a feral, joyless grin.

And then – Selina said something Harley couldn't hear, and _that_ couldn't be right because it looked all of a sudden like she and Pam were – oh.

They were kissing. With the whole school watching, with J's video camera pointed right at them, his bony shoulders shaking with glee.

 _It's . . . just one of those drunken party things_ , Harley thought to herself, desperately. _See? Not a real kiss. And Pam's pushing her away!_

But then their lips came together again, and _that_ was a real kiss, and Selina's hands were twining in Pam's glorious hair, and Harley could tell that Pam was kissing her back, and she could tell they'd done this before, and she didn't know why that made her guts twist so hard that she had to put a hand to her stomach – but it did.

"Well? What do you think? Tie?" Selina was saying.

Red and green and purple blurred together suddenly, and Harley realized that her eyes were wet. She looked up at the ceiling, stupidly thinking for a second that water was leaking on her.

Then she looked straight ahead again, blinking back her inexplicable tears, and found herself staring right into emerald eyes that mirrored her own feelings of shock.

The crowd was starting to disperse now – _show's over_ , Harley thought bitterly – and she turned and let herself be swept along with them, stumbling over her own stupid feet in her haste to get outside.

/

Pam watched Harley's blonde head bob out of sight as the crowd exited the room. That look in her eye- shock, confusion, maybe disappointment- it made Pam's stomach hurt knowing she was the cause of it. An anger like white hot fury bubbled up in her throat, tasting of bile and stinging like aimless frustration.

She grabbed Selina by the lapel of her jacket and the brunette yelped as she was dragged from behind the island up the stairs.

"Pam, ow! Hey!" the brunette complained as the redhead pulled on her jacket, nearly ripping the fabric. "What are you—"

Pamela opened Selina's bedroom door and shoved her inside. They were alone now, the sounds of the party distant below the floorboards as the redhead slammed the door shut behind her.

She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, three times, but ended up clamping it shut again as a mixture of pain and anger twisted her features.

Selina backed up into the room slightly, positioning herself with plenty of area to maneuver should she need to. "What's the matter?" She asked, her voice confident, but her eyes afraid.

"Don't do that!" Pamela shouted. "You know what you did, Selina. It's cruel!"

"What did I do, Pammy?" Selina asked mock-innocently, raising a dark eyebrow. "You mean the kiss? Was it too much tongue?"

"Stop it!" Pamela advanced, pushing Selina harshly onto the bed a few feet behind her. "Just stop!"

"Ooh, Me-ow, Pammy." Selina swiped her hand like a cat claw. "Are we getting feisty?"

"Why are you being like this?!" Pam was almost crying now. "Why would you do that when you knew…"

"Knew what?" Selina baited her, sitting up. "Knew that _she'd_ be here? Your little fucking girlfriend?"

"No, that's not what…she's…" Pamela tried to pull herself back under control. "You can't do that. Not anymore. You have Bruce and I have…"

"Oh my god." Selina crawled to the foot of the bed and sat back on her heels. "You really do have a thing for her." She laughed, cruelly. "You don't even know her!"

"But I'd like to!" Pamela took a few heated steps forward. "Why am I not allowed that? Why do you get to have Bruce but I can't have anyone?"

"Oh, knock it off, Pammy. You make it sound like I'm jealous." The brunette placed her hands on her friend's hips and looked up at her. "I'm sorry, OK? Now come here." She tugged gently, trying to pull Pam onto the bed. "I'm gonna make you feel good."

"You're drunk." Pamela spat, pushing the girl's hands away. "Why don't you go make sure Bruce isn't fucking Talia."

"Hey! Where the hell are you going?!" Selina demanded once Pam started for the door.

"To water your fucking hydrangeas." The redhead explained, her eyes cold. "They are noticeably dry."

"Is that a euphemism?" Selina's question went unanswered as the door had already slammed shut.

Pam lied, she was going to make one more stop before she got to watering Selina's decrepit garden. The redhead made a b-line directly for the bar. God, it was horrible. She knew it would all taste horrible. Vodka seemed like the best bet, it would be effective at least, deliver her at her desired state of carelessness somewhat quickly. So she grabbed the bottle from the boy who was holding it and poured it into a plastic party cup. Then, after a deep breath, she swallowed the majority of the liquid in one gulp, gagging once it was rid of her mouth. The only way she knew to describe the emotions swirling around within her was 'anger', and so she gulped down another mouthful, hoping to somehow blunt it.

"I don't wanna be Bruce's sidekick anymore," she heard Dick Grayson whining. "I gotta be my own man, right?"

It took a moment for Pamela to realize he was talking to her. "Do I look like your therapist?"

"Hey!" Dick said, his dark eyes lighting up with excitement. "Did you bring your glasses tonight?"

Pamela narrowed her eyes, reasonably suspicious of the odd question. "Why?"

"Cuz maybe we could do some roleplay." He grinned. "You be Professor Gordon; I be the naughty student…" He waggled his eyebrows at her and Pam's face screwed up in disgust.

"God, your name is so appropriate right now." She mumbled into her cup as she took another sip of the stinging liquid. He did the same and then threw his plastic cup on the ground. "Hey!" She yelled. "You better put that in the fucking recycling, you useless meathead."

/

Harley wasn't quite sure why she didn't just leave. Screw these rich kids and their parties – she had better things to do.

Except she didn't.

And leaving would have meant being worlds away – once again – from the one person who occupied her thoughts these days.

"Ugh," Harley said out loud from the deck chair she was slumped in, sipping slowly at a bottle of tequila she'd grabbed on her way out. She'd grabbed a pretty sweet mallet, too, and it leaned against her chair as she watched a redhaired girl (who looked oddly like Pam, goddammit) and a blond boy Harley didn't know engage in a series of competitions, fully clothed, in the Kyles' Olympic-sized swimming pool.

"Arthur! Let's see who can hold our breath the longest! Hey, Diana? Where'd you go?" the redhead yelled before both of them ducked underwater once more.

Diana . . . that was a name Harley knew. And just then, the goddess herself appeared, as swiftly as though she'd been summoned. She flopped down into the deck chair next to Harley's and sighed.

"Rough night?" Harley said, and Diana looked stunned that someone was sitting there but then recovered quickly.

"I'm just tired," said Gotham Prep's star lacrosse player, leaning her head back and looking up at the stars. "Been doing feats of strength all night. Also, tying people to chairs and making them spill their biggest secrets. You know, party stuff." She looked at Harley, eyes glassy. "Hey, you're that blonde girl – Blondie Blonderson," she said. "What have _you_ been doing tonight? Hanging out with your bestest bio tutor? Making her all blushy with your little texts?"

Harley's mouth actually fell open in shock, and Diana laughed. _That must be the sound warriors hear as they enter Valhalla_ , Harley thought, weirdly. "I can read," Diana said. "And every time Pammy's phone buzzes with a message from 'Crotch Rocket,' it makes her smile."

"I'm in her phone as _Crotch Rocket?_ " Harley said indignantly, and the other girl laughed again.

"Missing the point there, kiddo," she said, clapping a hand on Harley's shoulder – _ow_ , Harley thought. Diana looked at the pool, where the redhead had once again bested the blond boy in one of their ridiculous competitions. As she resurfaced, she smiled dazzlingly and waved at Diana, who grinned in return and jerked her head toward the house, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

Harley thought the other girl's head was going to fall off, she nodded so hard. "Later, Arthur!" she trilled, climbing somewhat gracefully up the ladder. The blond boy fell into a back float and paddled around slowly, looking relieved.

"You want to sweep a redhead off her feet, you come find Diana Prince sometime," Diana said with a wink. Then she walked over and did just that, gathering the other girl up in her arms, sopping green dress and all, and they giggled as Diana carried her into the house.

Harley blinked a few times, trying to process that whole conversation, but the tequila was starting to hit her a little now and she just couldn't.

Then she looked across the lawn, to where a stand of trees bordered one edge. Someone was walking along the trees, fumbling to remove first one high heel and then the other – and if Harley squinted, she could barely make out a green evening gown.

Well, shit.

Harley gathered every bit of her courage and followed.

 **Bonus question: What drunk teenage "superpower" would you have most like to see that we didn't show?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Actual conversation between actual authors #4:**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: I don't know why you think nights are days, Amber. That's pretty dumb.**  
 **areyoukiddingmedude: You there, bro? I don't really think you're dumb...obviously. That was me responding to something I wrote...as you.**

 **AmberZ10: Ha. Sorry. Overslept because I'm lazy AF.**

 **aykmd: OMG YOU'RE ALIIIIIVE. For a minute I thought our virtual collaboration was DONE because I called you dumb.**

 **AZ10: No, no I can't fault you there. I am dumb. All the time. I couldn't even manage to write out "As F*ck".**

 **aykmd: Man, I'm like absurdly relieved.**

As Harley followed Pam into the trees, she paused to pick up first one discarded emerald green shoe, then the other, feeling like an even lamer version of Prince Charming.

And then she saw her. Christ, it was like Pamela Isley had her own lighting crew that just followed her around everywhere, illuminating her perfectly no matter what the time of day or night. Harley actually glanced up for a second, looking for a boom mic, before she approached the vision that was Pam in the moonlight.

The redhead was leaning against a tree, arms crossed tightly around her middle. Her back was to Harley, and Harley thought she saw those flawless shoulders shaking with rage. "Hey," she said gently, making her presence known, and Pam whirled around, a hand to her chest, breathing heavily in surprise.

"I got your shoes," Harley said lamely, holding them up.

"Thank you," said Pam reflexively. "Are you enjoying the party?" Then she groaned and sank to the ground, her back against the tree, her knees pulled up against her chest.

"You know, the first two minutes or so were pretty awesome," Harley said with a shy smile, stepping closer. "But then I saw my bio tutor making out with another girl."

"What an odd coincidence," said Pam, her voice muffled because her face was now resting on her knees. "I made out with another girl. That must mean I'm your biology tutor." She raised her head a little and looked at Harley, squinting one eye, looking like an adorable mess. "Is that tequila?"

"Yep," Harley said. She tentatively sat down beside her, keeping the tequila on her far side, not knowing how much Pam had already had or what her tolerance level was, hating the reasons why she knew to think that way.

Pam shifted to face her, leaning sideways against the tree now. Harley mirrored her position. "Can I tell you something?" Pam said, reaching out as if she were going to touch Harley's face, then letting her hand fall so it just flopped against Harley's leg on its descent. Harley shrugged.

"You're so pretty," Pam said, looking earnestly into her eyes in that way only drunk people have, and Harley knew it was the alcohol talking, knew it didn't mean anything, but god it made a little shiver run down her spine. "So, so pretty. Like, your face? It's just so . . . pretty."

Harley grinned at her, charmed despite herself. "Pretty sure you'd find a shrubbery attractive right now, Cyrano. But can I ask you something?"

Pam nodded, keeping her gaze locked on the blue eyes in front of her.

Harley wasn't quite sure how to phrase it, wasn't quite sure why she cared, but she just had to know. "Have you and Selina…have you kissed before?"

Pam's eyes dropped then and focused on her hand resting on Harley's leg. "Yeah."

There was a sense of defeat in her tone that broke Harley's heart for some reason.

"Lotsa times," the redhead continued, slurring slightly. "Selina's the only person I've ever kissed. You know how long we've known each other?"

"How long?" Harley prompted.

"Since we were four years old." She held up the appropriate number of fingers to illustrate. "She said we should practice, before high school, you know?"

"Kissing?" Harley's hand- seemingly of its own accord- moved to cover the other girl's where it rested on her leg.

"And other stuff…" Pam trailed off when she noticed the bottle as if for the first time. "Is that tequila?"

"Yep," Harley said again. When Pam held out her hand for it, Harley put it behind her back. "I think you've had enough," she said.

"Fuck you, I can count to 'enough,'" said Pam without any anger. "I have a fucking PhD."

"Oh really, Doctor?" Harley said, grinning widely at this new side of Pam. "In what, pray tell?"

"In . . . plants," said Pam, gesturing wildly at the trees around them. "Plants and shit. That's my jam." She craned her neck a little, trying to look around Harley at the bottle of tequila, but Harley fixed her in place with a look. Pam sighed, leaning the side of her face against the tree again, then winced as her ear rubbed against the rough bark. "I yelled at Bruce," she said.

"Why?" Harley asked.

"For using too much toilet paper." Harley burst out laughing at that, and Pam got offended. "Hey! It's not envirornly – envimently – it's not good for the plants," she said haughtily, and Harley laughed even harder.

"Pamela Isley, environmental crusader," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. Pam smiled at that, and they looked at each other for a minute in the moonlight.

Now Pam did raise her hand to Harley's face, stroking her cheek gently. Harley fought her instinct to close her eyes, to lean into the warm touch. "I was right," Pam murmured. "You are a winter."

Harley blushed. "Thank you for the makeup, by the way," she said. "Now, if I promise to recycle this bottle, will you let me take you home? Or –" a thought occurred to her and her gut twisted once more – "are you sleeping here?"

"Sposed to," mumbled Pam, "but I don't feel like it tonight." She held out a hand to Harley. "Load me up on your handlebars, pretty girl."

Harley got to her feet, dusting off her backside, and helped Pam up. She stumbled against Harley, and for a minute they were frozen in time. Only a few inches of air hung, heavy, between their lips.

Then Harley remembered the state Pam was in and gently kissed her on the cheek. "Come on, drunky," she said, putting an arm around Pam and dangling her shoes from one finger, carefully gripping the tequila bottle so she could dump the rest and recycle it.

"I'm not drunk!" Pam caviled. "I am mother nature's chosen protector!"

The look on Harley's face proved to have a sobering effect.

"OK, so it's possible I'm _slightly_ inebriated…"

/

Everything hurt. Pamela's entire existence was pain. She slammed her arm on her nightstand, aiming for a nonexistent alarm clock, and rolled over with a groan. She pried one eye open and instantly regretted every decision she'd made in her life that had somehow culminated in this hell. She suddenly hated sunlight despite its providing the means for most of what made this planet inhabitable.

It took a moment- _OK, it took a few moments_ \- but her eyes eventually did adjust to the cruel light of day. And when she turned she found a note on the other pillow in handwriting that reminded Pamela of a medical doctor's for its sloppiness, although in this particular instance she found it endearing.

 _Hey, "Mother Nature's Chosen Protector",_

 _You're going to need to drink water. Probably a lot of it. And take some ibuprofen. If you're serious about that tutoring session on Sunday, then I'm totally in. I'll brush up on Diffusion and all that even though it sounds super boring. Alec was really nice when he drove me home. You should tip him or something! I would, but I'm afraid the only thing I own of any value is makeup, and I'm not sure he'd appreciate that gift the way I did._

 _XOXO,_

 _Harley_

Pam had to read it over eight times to truly comprehend the language, complex as it was. She didn't want to misunderstand any of Harley's words. Miscommunication is the basis of nearly every sitcom and Pamela was rarely a fan of those. She wondered if Harley had actually meant "hugs and kisses" by "XO", or if she was simply using the letters to fill space on the paper.

With a smile that severely contradicted her current physical state, Pam grabbed her phone off the nightstand to confirm the Sunday tutoring session with Harley. Her home screen was brimming with notifications, twitter, namely. Oh no…Pamela hadn't been around to hide Selina's phone from her and everyone's twitter feed had suffered for it.

10:18pm: "In case you're wondering, PLIsley 's mouth tastes like peppermint candy and repression"

10:33pm: "Seriously? fuck her. Like, I ain't a plant. She don't know me."

11:08pm: "Ok, my boyfriend has mad mommy issues. Like DUUUDDDEEEE, you OK, bro?"

11:54pm: "Diana make it look like she went shopping at K-Mart for a PLIsley with that #DiscountRedhead"

11:58pm: "K, nevermind. Got a closer look. She's probably like a Macy's level PLIsley"

12:13am: "None of these fuckers wanna help me plan a heist. Whatever, losers."

12:42am: "Dog people- you on blast. Fuck you guys. Seriously. Get a cat. Cat's are where it's at."

12:45am: " SillyKyle TRUE DAT, PARTY CAT!"

12:46am: "oh shit, just tweeted myself. Oops. Bahahaha. It's true tho. And who dat party cat? It's me. #IAmAPartyCat"

1:04am: "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU GET OUT OF MY HOUSE"

Pamela locked her phone after that, unable to read any more. She knew exactly how their fight would play out. Selina would be slightly less verbally abusive to her for a few days, Pam would accept her apology, and they'd be fine like they always had. Pamela wasn't worried about that, she remembered what happened with Selina. It was Harley that she wasn't sure about. Pam remembered bit and pieces, little snippets from their conversation by the tree and in the car and had Harley been here? She must have, she left the note…and Alec had driven her home. Good. Well, judging from the note which stated that Harley did, in fact, want to see her again, Pamela hadn't made a complete ass of herself in front of her biology pupil. So…good. A weight lifted off of Pam's shoulders and she once again focused on her phone, opening a blank text message to "Crotch Rocket."

 **I consider myself to be environmentally conscious, but I don't presume to be mother nature's chosen protector. Although I do appreciate the compliment.**

She grinned when she felt her phone vibrate in response almost immediately.

 **your words, not mine** **J**

Ah. So it seemed Pamela had embarrassed herself. **And here I thought I'd survived the evening without incident.**

 **sorry. There were a lot of incidents.**

The redhead was just beginning her shame spiral when her phone vibrated once more.

 **it was cute, though.**

Pam grinned and began to type her response when Harley sent another.

 **I don't mean I think you're cute**

Pam's heart sunk. She almost didn't want to read the follow up when it came, but was glad she did.

 **no! I mean you are. I do. Duh. Everybody does. Sorry, does Sunday still work? Sunday is tomorrow.**

The redhead smirked as she wrote her reply. **I may not know what I said last night, but I'm certainly aware Sunday comes after Saturday.** She waited a moment before sending the next message. **Let's plan on 3pm this time. Perhaps we'll delve into more complex concepts.**

She smiled at Harley's reply, although the salutation did confuse her a little:

 **perhaps, Dr. Isley. perhaps indeed.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Actual conversation between actual authors #5:**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: I think I was being sarcastic...but like, it's OK. I was only doing it to be a dick.**

 **AmberZ10: That's the best reason to do anythinh**  
 **AmberZ10: *g**  
 **AmberZ10: As if 'anythinh' is even close to a thing.**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: it's close to a thinh, though**

 **AmberZ10: I know acknowledging it ruins the joke, but I found that far too amusing.**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: ...and that's why we're friends.**

"Harley! Harley! Harley!" the kitten-sized hyena was chanting.

No, wait – that was her littlest brother.

Harley opened one eye. A big blue eye, the same exact shade as hers, was staring right back at her, and she pretended to be scared, saying "eep!" and ducking her head under the covers. She heard her 4-year-old brother giggle next to her, felt his little body shake with glee.

Then she felt her own body shake from what could only be the 8-year-old jumping on the end of her bed. "Duuuudes," she groaned. "Harley needs her 'me time.'"

"Out late with your boyfriend?" came a teasing voice from the doorway, and Harley peeked out to see her 12-year-old brother leaning against the doorjamb. The other two stopped what they were doing and listened intently.

"Um . . . no way?" Harley said. "Why'd ya think that?"

"Don't lie, I saw him drop you off last night," he smirked. "Big black car, fancy black suit and cap?"

"Ha! That's Alec!" said Harley. "No, he's – I know his – he just gave me a ride home," she finished lamely.

"Mom's at work!" interjected her littlest brother.

"Make us pancakes!" said her next littlest brother.

Her oldest little brother was already walking away, having lost interest, probably texting one of his friends.

Harley sighed. "Pancakes it is, you little monsters," she said, and chased them both to the kitchen.

They were all fed and Harley was just sitting down with her own pancakes and a cup of coffee when her phone buzzed. That familiar flutter asserted itself in Harley's stomach when she saw a new text from GreenGirl:

 **I consider myself to be environmentally conscious, but I don't presume to be mother nature's chosen protector. Although I do appreciate the compliment.**

And as her little brothers chanted "Alec! Alec!" (having misinterpreted – though not by much – Harley's secretive smile, the blush that crept up her cheeks), Harley texted with Pam in the cheerful little kitchen.

Then she sighed. Happily. Because Sunday was indeed tomorrow.

/

Pam loved getting to school bright and early, before the peaceful silence was shattered by hordes of loud, sweaty . . . people. She shuddered a bit at the thought, then returned her attention to the task at hand – namely, taking a long, hot, well-deserved shower after an early morning battle against the tennis ball machine.

The only sound in the locker room came from the jets of water caressing her scalp, running down her back, splashing on the tiled floor. Pam smiled serenely, squeezing shampoo into her hand from a travel-sized container before replacing the bottle in her monogrammed shower caddy. She inhaled deeply as she massaged it through her thick tresses, working it into the roots as the scents of citrus and sage mingled, filling the air around her. Then she rinsed it out until her hair felt squeaky clean and repeated the entire process with the matching conditioner, this time focusing on the ends of her hair, until her auburn locks were smooth as silk.

Pam closed her eyes and leaned her head back, just letting the water wash over her – and then suddenly she jerked upright, her eyes snapping open – the locker room door had just banged shut. Someone was in here.

She could feel her pulse racing and assessed that it was a combination of surprise and irritation due to the interruption of her most sacred pre-class ritual. "Is someone there?" Pam called, mentally congratulating herself on how clearly and confidently her voice echoed through the room, belying her increased heart rate.

The steam from her shower filled the room so thoroughly that as she squinted, at first Pam could only make out a slight, shadowy figure.

Then the figure shifted and swirled as it stepped through the mist to reveal – oh.

"Just me," said Harley, leaning casually against the doorway to the showers. She wore the outfit she'd been in the day of gymnastics tryouts – black spandex shorts and a slim-fitting tank top that left nothing to the imagination – as well as a slightly crooked smirk in place of her usual full grin.

Pam gaped at her openly for a moment, noticing how her clothes clung to her, enhancing her lean, tight physique – how her skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, as if she'd just come from a punishing workout – how her trademark blonde pigtails rapidly made the transition from bouncy to curly in the humidity of Pam's shower.

Then she realized that _she_ was in a far more compromising position, and she could tell by the way Harley's smirk widened that as this truth dawned on Pam, it was written plainly all over her face.

Pam gulped. Blushed. Ran through several parallel scenarios for the best way to handle this situation.

And then instantly discarded all of them as Harley took a single step toward her, her eyes raking unapologetically up Pam's body in direct opposition to the rivulets of water cascading downward – because _that_ was not in any of her scenarios.

When Harley's eyes met hers again, Pam was trembling – she hoped not visibly. Those eyes, normally such a clear blue, looked somehow darker, hungrier, perhaps a trick of the steam or the shadows cast by the overhead fluorescent lights.

Then Harley spoke: "Why don't you tell me what you want, Pamela?" And when her voice vibrated low in Pam's chest, sent a ray of heat pulsing through her, she thought, _Oh. Not a trick of the light, then._

"I-I don't know," Pam stuttered, the shower behind her forgotten, its pressure and warmth merely a backdrop for what was happening now.

Harley stepped closer, not breaking that searing eye contact for a second. "Oh . . . I think you do."

The redhead instinctively took a step backwards, which put her head under the jet and sent a fresh torrent of water surging down over her face. Pam reached behind her in frustration and turned the faucet off.

Silence. Pam wiped her eyes, blinked the water away, and suddenly realized that Harley was now closer than ever, close enough to touch, seemingly mesmerized by the droplets sliding down Pam's collarbone until she dragged her gaze upward to meet Pam's again. "Tell me," she said quietly, and it was firm and commanding and yet somehow still plaintive; it made Pam's knees feel weak.

And then – swiftly, inexplicably – she felt strong.

In a fluid motion, Pam reached out with wet hands and pulled Harley to her by her hips, and their lips slid together like they were made for this, like they'd kissed a hundred times before. Harley hummed, a low sound in the back of her throat, and pressed forward, her hands finding a slick, tentative hold on Pam's lower back. When Pam's back hit the cold tile of the shower wall, the faucet grazing her ribs, she gasped, and immediately felt the brush of Harley's tongue against her lips, the press of her hips against Pam's.

She pulled back for air, brushed a now-wet strand of hair off Harley's forehead, and was just about to answer, "I want _that_ " –

. . . and then- BEEP BEEP BEEP- her alarm rang at precisely 6:30am, her weekend wakeup time, and a very flustered and sweaty Pamela Isley awoke, breathless and disoriented, feeling strongly that 3pm could not come soon enough.

/

All day, Harley had felt like 3pm couldn't come soon enough. Luckily, her mom was working an early shift that day ("Brunch, Harleen – can you believe it? Like they can't drag their asses out of bed for breakfast like the rest of us"), so Harley could watch the boys all morning and they wouldn't have to stay with a neighbor during the gap.

Now she stood outside Pam's house for the second time, feeling a nervous sort of anticipation that she now knew had nothing to do with diffusion or osmosis – _Concentrate, Harley!_ she told herself as she swallowed and poked at the doorbell.

She missed and poked the wall, but the door swung open anyway, revealing a pink-cheeked Pam, who smiled a little shyly and then noticed Harley's odd position. "Did you just . . . poke my house?" the redhead said, amusement lacing her voice.

Harley pulled her finger back, not sure what to do with that hand now so she ran it awkwardly through her hair. "Didn't like the way it was looking at me," she said, grinning up at her. "Wait – were you waiting by the door?"

"Yes," sighed Pam, "and I might have gotten away with it, if you hadn't botched the doorbell ring." They looked at each other for a second, and Harley shuffled her feet. Then Pam said, "Oh! Please, come in."

They walked side by side this time. Harley was conscious of the gap between their shoulders and tried to stay a constant distance apart – not so close that they'd bump, not so far that Pam would notice. _Aahhh you're being weird_ , she thought, but the exercise kept her distracted enough that she couldn't do anything dumb like look at Pam's outfit in great detail.

Which was good. Because she looked amazing. Casual (well, for Pam – which was still 5-10 clicks fancier than Harley at her fanciest) in a sleeveless top that was her trademark emerald green and sort of poofy and silky, matching heels, and jeans that fit like they were made for her.

Then Pam turned suddenly, and Harley ended up behind her on the stairs, and she was forced to conclude that without a doubt, those jeans _were_ made for her.

 _Wait, is this what you call NOT looking at her outfit? Geez, Quinzel, get a grip!_ Harley chided herself. And was she imagining it, or was that a knowing smirk on Pam's face when she caught up to her again?

"You're quiet today," Pam said lightly as they got settled at the desk in her bedroom.

"I . . . ate a lot of pancakes," said Harley. _WTF?!_

Pamela Isley actually _giggled_ at that, and good lord there was no way Harley was going to survive this.

But somehow, she did. Despite the fact that every time their hands brushed casually (which was a lot, since Harley was a leftie and Pam, a rightie), Harley swore she literally felt sparks and had to bite her lip to calm down; despite the fact that when she breathlessly recited the definition of 'diffusion' that she'd memorized on the bus ride over, Pam beamed at her and Harley almost fell out of her chair; despite the fact that even though they were now using the same lotion, it somehow smelled ten times more heavenly on Pam – she made it through.

And then there was the distant echo of a door opening somewhere in the house. The two girls looked at each other in surprise, and when an impeccably precise voice called out, "Pamela? I'm home," Harley swore she actually _felt_ Pam's tension level rise.

Pam cleared her throat and hurried away from the desk, casting a single furtive glance back at Harley as she stood in her doorway and said, "I'm in my bedroom, Mother."

There was the unmistakable clack of heels ascending the master staircase and coming down the hall, and Pam's mother said, "Pamela. Why aren't you out on the tennis court?"

"Hello, Mother. Did you have a nice trip?" Pam said in a clipped voice, one that told Harley pretty much everything she needed to know about Pam's relationship with her mother. She seriously debated hiding under the bed but decided it was too risky a move.

Then Mrs. Isley came into view of the doorway, and if Pam was intimidating, this woman was downright imposing. Her skirt suit was flawlessly tailored, her nails impeccably manicured, and her expression carefully honed to project barely concealed disapproval. She was gorgeous like Pam – of course the Isley women would age well – but lacked Pam's expressive eyes, which showed the occasional flashes of warmth, of humor, of pain that Harley found so transfixing.

Those eyes had just landed on Harley, and they narrowed ever so slightly before Mrs. Isley was sweeping into the room, every inch the perfect hostess. "Pamela, darling, you didn't tell me you had a guest!" is what her mouth said.

Her eyes said, _How dare you invade my home?_

She extended a hand to Harley, who was at this point motivated solely by the desire to have Mrs. Isley approve of her so that Pam wouldn't get in trouble. Harley stood, awkwardly trapped between her chair and the desk, off-balance in every sense of the word. She reached out to shake Mrs. Isley's hand and ended up gripping it harder than she'd intended.

"And you are . . .?" Mrs. Isley intoned, her hazel eyes boring into Harley's wide blue ones.

"H-Harley. Harleen," Harley stammered. "Harleen, but I go by Harley."

The older woman dropped her hand, rubbing her own palm ever so subtly against the fabric of her skirt. Now her eyes traveled up and down Harley, finding every inch of her wanting if the tension of her lips was any indication. "Pamela, I don't believe I've ever heard you mention a . . . Harley," she said, continuing her inspection without turning to face her daughter.

Harley held her breath as they both waited for Pam's reply.

In that same clipped voice she'd used earlier, Pam said, "She's a classmate of mine, Mother. A transfer student who requires additional tutoring in biology."

Mrs. Isley's shoulders visibly sagged at that – _in relief_? Harley wondered. "Well," she said, turning to face Pam now, dismissing Harley as effectively as if she had physically waved her out of the room, "I think it would be more appropriate if these – tutoring sessions continued on school property, rather than here in your bedroom. Don't you agree, Pamela?"

Harley knew now not to be surprised when Pam nodded. "Of course, Mother."

Mrs. Isley swept out of the room, then paused in the doorway and said: "And Pamela – dinner will be at 6pm sharp."

With one last glance at Harley, she was gone – but the mood she'd brought with her lingered.

By the time Pam had recovered enough to cross over to the desk, Harley already had her biology book in her backpack and was zipping it up. "Harley–" Pam began, but she was halfway to the door. Then Harley felt a hand in hers, and Pam whispered, "Wait. Please."

Harley pulled her hand loose and fled the room, the house, that world.

She angry-walked to the bus stop, irritated that the day was so perfect and clear when it should be storming. And – _why_ was she so upset? Nothing Pam had said was factually inaccurate. Classmate? Check. Fucking transfer student from the wrong side of the tracks? Double check. Requires additional tutoring – _requires –_ check that fucker off too!

 _I'm done with this_ , she thought, leaning against the metal pole. If Pam Isley – the one person she'd gotten close to, in their weird way, the one person she'd consider a friend – wrote her off as a "classmate who needs extra help" whenever anyone else was around, what was the point of staying at Gotham Prep? She'd be better off going back to Central, where their gymnastics equipment was 20 years old but at least she was treated like a person.

Harley's thoughts traveled those dark paths for 10 minutes as she waited for the bus, checking the time on her phone every 30 seconds, wishing she were back in her kitchen with its cheap linoleum, with her three little brothers. She realized she wanted her mom, and the feeling caught her by surprise.

Then she heard the squeal of tires on asphalt, as one of those fancy sedans made by a company Harley didn't even recognize pulled up right in front of her. She crossed her arms protectively as the tinted passenger-side window rolled down and Pam said from the driver's seat, "Harley. Please. Get in so we can talk."

Harley rolled her eyes and looked away. She didn't have to talk to her. Waller could assign her another tutor tomorrow.

She expected to hear the car peel off, so when instead she heard a slamming car door and heels marching on concrete, it actually took her by surprise and she looked back just in time to see an angry-looking Pamela Isley bearing down on her.

"You want to know what my mother's so afraid of?" Pam said, breathing hard, her chest heaving. Harley thought of five possible smart-ass responses, but didn't get to say any of them, because . . .

"This," said Pam. And she slid both hands around to the back of Harley's neck, cupped her jaw with her thumbs, and brought her lips down to Harley's.

 **Bonus question: So...anyone else seriously crushing on Pam?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Actual conversation between actual authors #5? #6? oh, f*ck it.**

 **AmberZ10: Remind me when we're doing tongue**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: This is the weirdest message to get out of context. And the answer (IN context) is: whenever it feels right, girl.**

 **AmberZ10: It's coming soon. I promise.**  
 **AmberZ10: My chapter, I mean. Not the tongue.**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: bahahaha thanks for clarifying**

It was better in real life: that, Pamela could state unequivocally. Harley was shocked at first, Pam could feel her body bracing at her touch, but the redhead was insistent, desperate, even. Harley leaned in, her skin warming below Pamela's fingers as they savored the feel of each other's lips.

Harley seemed to have gathered her courage as well because she threw her arms around Pam's shoulders and drew her closer. But it was that action that reminded Pamela where they were- at a bus stop just outside her neighborhood. With extreme reluctance she pulled away from Harley's kiss, settling instead for reverent eye contact as they remained in that close proximity.

"So your mom…" Harley's pale cheeks were flushed beet red. "She wouldn't like you doin' that?"

Pamela offered a gentle nod and a slight smile. "Can you get in the car now?"

Harley bit her lip to contain the grin that threatened to nearly split her face in two. "Mhm."

Pamela couldn't properly articulate the relief that washed over her then. She'd wanted something, and she'd taken it. Just like Diana would, just like Selina would. It made her feel…powerful. Harley welcomed it. Wanted it. She wanted her. She kissed back, with fervor even. Harley's response satisfied Pamela's equation and at that, the redhead felt like her heart was expanding in her chest.

A car honked at Pamela's idling one in the bus lane and in keeping with channeling her inner Selina, she promptly flipped them off, which earned a laugh from the blonde.

"Can you drive me home?"

Without a word, Pamela stepped off the curb and opened the passenger side door for her, helping Harley in and shutting it behind her.

"I didn't know you could drive," Harley said, almost shyly, once they'd gone a few blocks.

Pamela liked the feeling of Harley's eyes on her, she was- of course- paying attention to the road, but the blonde's gaze left a hot trail on her skin. "Bruce taught me."

"Bruce Wayne?" Harley was incredulous. "You're kidding."

"Why would I kid about that?" Pam chuckled. "I've known Bruce nearly as long as Selina, if you can believe it. They've dated on and off for years, but he's always around even when they're not. Besides, our parents converse on the charity circuit."

"The Waynes, the Isleys and the Kyles…" Harley said, her focus now out the window. "How posh."

"Gotham is an industrial city." Pamela explained, oddly appreciative of being able to discuss a subject that wasn't what just happened at the bus stop. "The community of high-earning families like ours is rather small."

"Oh, how tragic." Harley mocked, although Pamela could hear the smile on her lips. "So what makes you guys so rich?"

Pamela sighed, preparing the information she'd stored. "Well, the Waynes own nearly half of Gotham. Thomas Wayne is a real estate man with a special interest in the waterfront, so he's able to charge a fee for companies shipping through his port."

Harley laughed. "Be honest. Is there anything you don't know?"

Pamela smirked, suddenly (for some unknown reason) wishing they were back in her bedroom rather than driving in her car.

"Alright." Harley's gaze was focusing on her driver once more. "So what about the Kyles?"

"Well, Mr. Kyle is an antiquities dealer and Ms. Kyle – Dr. Kyle, really – is the most in-demand plastic surgeon east of National City." Pamela informed her as she stopped at a light, taking the opportunity to look over at her passenger.

"Really?" Harley seemed to be in some sort of "awe". "I guess that's why Selina's so pretty."

Pamela couldn't tell if Harley was joking, but she felt oddly offended on Selina's behalf by the comment. She knew any response would come out sounding angry, so she stayed silent, pulling away from the stoplight with her mouth drawn into a hard line.

Harley was quiet too, for a moment, although she was clearly examining the redhead's behavior. "You kissed me." Harley realized, for what sounded like the first time.

And like a blade of grass breaking through the concrete, Pamela's blush interrupted her suddenly steely expression. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Harley's hand crept across the divide to rest gently on her thigh, and Pamela shivered at the contact, that familiar tingly feeling seeming to spread from Harley's touch.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, their silence comfortable but exciting all at once. It wasn't until Pamela turned onto her block that Harley spoke up.

"How did you know where to go?"

"I was…" Pamela cleared her throat as she pulled up in front of the apartment complex. "I was researching your bus route." She moved her gaze to her passenger as she shut the car off and saw that the blonde was grinning broadly beside her.

"Did you google me?" she asked with a giggle.

Pamela felt a now familiar pang of bashfulness in her chest. "Just once," she assured her. "I have a photographic memory."

"Of course you do." Harley grinned. "You're—"

She was interrupted by a knock and a pair of eerily familiar blue eyes pressed up against the driver's side window. Pamela jumped and Harley laughed as the boy knocked again.

"Harley! Is this a space car?!"

"It's a Tesla," Pam corrected him automatically.

"That's my little brother." Harley giggled again as she squeezed Pamela's leg reassuringly. The boy scampered into the building. "Do you wanna come in?"

/

When she invited her in, Harley half-expected Pam to say no. But the invitation was out there, and Harley just couldn't seem to move her hand from Pam's leg for some reason, and wait what did _that_ have to do with anything?

"Where do you go when you look like that?" Pam said, stroking a finger gently down the center of Harley's forehead.

Harley grinned sheepishly, knowing- finally- that her touch was purposeful. "I just . . . spend a lot of time in my head. You know?"

Pam nodded and murmured, "I do know." They were both leaning slightly over the center console now and Pam's nod brought their faces even closer.

Then someone said "Whoa!" right outside Pam's window, and they reflexively sprang apart. "My other brothers," Harley explained, running a hand through her hair a little nervously.

"So . . . I believe you had just invited me in?" Pam said, clearing her throat and reaching for the door handle.

"Y-yeah," said Harley, scrambling out after her.

All three boys were walking around the car, admiring it. "See, I told you it was a space car!" the littlest one said. "Who are you?" He pointed a chubby finger right at Pamela. "Are you a pretty spaceman?" The oldest rolled his eyes, and the middle one pushed up and down on the bumper to see if the car bounced.

"Physical attractiveness has no bearing on one's admittance to or participation in the space program." Pamela informed him as if she were talking to a fully formed human being rather than a 4-year-old. "Or a degree in astrophysics, for that matter."

The littlest didn't seem to know what to do with that response.

"So, yeah. These are my little brothers," Harley said, moving on like Pam's literal answer to such a childish musing was normal. "The 12-year-old there is Harry." Pam extended her hand gracefully, and Harry glanced up from his phone long enough to grab her fingertips and shake them for a second. Harley bit her lip to keep from giggling at the perplexed expression on Pam's face.

"This hood ornament is Henry. He's 8," Harley continued, trying to pry Henry off the hood of the car. _Sorry_ , she mouthed to Pam, who waved her off with a smile.

"And I'm Zeb!" yelled a little voice next to them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Zeb," said Pam, extending a hand to him. He grabbed it and smacked a sticky kiss on her fingertips, and Harley was just going to have to follow her around with a camera one of these days and catch all of her priceless reaction shots.

"Do you know Harley's boyfriend?" Zeb asked, tugging on Pam's blouse, and okay, _that_ face was a little scary (but Harley still wouldn't mind a picture of it). She covered her smile with a hand and said, "They saw Alec drop me off Friday night, and now they think he's my boyfriend."

"Come on!" said Zeb, pulling Pam by the hand. The others trailed after them as he tugged her all the way up to their apartment.

"Home sweet home," said Harley once they were inside. She tried to imagine what the place would look like through Pam's eyes – the peeling countertops, the toys all over the floor, art on every square inch of the fridge . . .

"I love it," Pam said, looking back at Harley and smiling. "I can just imagine you getting up here every morning."

"Well, hi there! Who's this?" said Harley's mom, coming into the kitchen from the hall.

"Hi, Mom!" Harley said, kissing her on the cheek as Henry zoomed around both of them in circles and Zeb held on to Pam's hand. "This is my friend Pam. From school?"

"She is not a pretty spaceman," Zeb stated categorically, having learned his lesson earlier.

"Pam! I've heard so much about you," Harley's mom said, ignoring Pam's proffered hand (and her youngest son's bizarre comment) and pulling her into a quick hug instead. "My Harley says you're the nicest person in that place."

Harley blushed and looked away, suddenly very interested in the fridge art.

"It's truly a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Quinzel," said Pam.

"Pammy, I just have one question," the older woman said, her face suddenly grave. "What are your thoughts on brunch?"

Harley turned back. Her brothers froze. They knew that how a person answered this question accounted for the majority of their mom's approval or disapproval.

Without hesitating, Pam said, rather loftily, "Personally, I've never seen the point. Why can't people get up at a decent hour on the weekend and eat breakfast?" And all four Quinzel children let out the breaths they'd been holding.

Harley flashed Pam a thumbs up and said, "Mom, we're going to my room _[To make out]!" Oh, thank God I didn't say that last part out loud_ …She pulled Pam down the hall as Zeb yelled after them, "Pam! Guess what Harley made us for breakfast today – pancakes!"

Once they were inside her bedroom, Harley shut the door and leaned against it. _Pamela Isley, hottest girl in school, is in my bedroom_. Her heart beat faster at the thought as she watched Pam take a look around, absorbing everything. "Do your brothers all share a room?" she asked.

"Yeah, but Zeb usually ends up snuggling with me or Mom by the end of the night," said Harley. "I don't mind." _I wouldn't mind snuggling with you either, in a less platonic way, I mean…that doesn't sound even remotely cool._

Pam stopped looking around the room and walked over, facing Harley. "I like your family," she said. "And I like your room." She took a step closer, and Harley gulped. "I just have one question . . ." here, she leaned closer and ran the backs of her fingers gently down Harley's cheek – "do I need to be worried about you and Alec?"

Harley giggled- _Pamela Isley, hottest girl in school_ \- and pulled her in for a kiss. "Not even a little bit."

/

'Quaint.' That was the best word Pamela could come up with in searching her extensive vocabulary. The Quinzels' home was small. Three bedrooms, Pamela guessed, or maybe just two and they'd converted a spare room. Either way, Pamela hoped Harley had her own room. Not for selfish reasons…it's just, a girl needs her own space. Especially the lone girl of a four-child family. That's what Pamela assumed, anyway. She herself was an only child, so these matters simply weren't applicable to her up until this point, but now, just as she'd felt offended for Selina, she was concerned for Harley.

The size, the location…If Pamela had to guess, this apartment likely cost the Quinzels between $850 and $1000 per month, and a wave of guilt swept over the redhead as she realized she may have near that amount just in her purse.

"Home sweet home." Harley was saying.

And Pamela looked into her eyes then and saw an odd mixture of fear, pride and shame. Then Pam understood; the house was warm. It was friendly and interesting and a bit kitschy, but in an endearing way. This was Harley's home, and so… "I love it," Pam said, looking back at Harley and smiling. "I can just imagine you getting up here every morning."

Harley liked that answer; Pamela could tell. The littlest child was still holding her hand. He was a curious little boy, obviously overfriendly, but Pamela didn't find the physical affection completely unwelcome. And again, Harley seemed to appreciate Pam's friendliness towards him, so she allowed the handholding to continue as a petite brunette appeared in the hallway. She was relatively young for having a 16-year-old daughter, but still clearly Harley's mother.

"Well, hi there! Who's this?" The woman's tone was good-natured and she wore a smile on her face that eased Pamela's nerves just briefly.

"Hi, Mom!" Harley kissed the woman on the cheek as the middle boy- the one without regard for the well-being of a luxury vehicle- began to run around them in lazy circles with his arm stretched out as if he were some sort of airplane. He was making a sound effect to match, although he obviously didn't have the lung capacity required to mimic the sound of a jet engine with any real accuracy.

"This is Pam. From school?" Harley pulled the redhead's focus back to her.

The littlest boy squeezed her hand tighter as he assured their mother that Pam was "not a pretty spaceman." _So he was able to retain that information._ Pamela smiled down at him. _Very good_. But then she was being pulled into a hug and Pamela didn't hug often, so she was surprised, but not so much that she missed Harley's blush at the fact she'd discussed her previously with her family.

And then there were pleasantries exchanged and a question about brunch for some reason that Pamela just answered honestly because she wasn't given adequate time to prepare. Before Pamela knew it, they were alone once more. Harley was leaning against the door after she shut it and her shoulders were relaxing, but Pamela had to look away because Harley did have her own room, and it was all very…different.

The walls were decorated with handmade collages depicting things that Harley must be interested in, like bands Pamela had never heard of, some singer named Jared Leto who looked like a bit of a prick in Pamela's opinion, and various other assorted things like red convertibles and Olympic gymnasts.

"Do your brothers all share a room?" Pamela asked, although her focus remained on her surroundings.

"Yeah, but Zeb usually ends up snuggling with me or Mom by the end of the night. I don't mind." Harley told her.

Pamela nodded subtly, taking one more look around, cataloging all the information she could before walking back over to Harley. Flirtation had never been difficult for Pamela; it was like putting on a mask. This time, however, Pamela hoped that it wasn't innocent. This wasn't like with Selina. Harley's kisses, her words…they meant something.

Pamela liked their second kiss better than their first. It felt almost like…breathing. No, that's too fantastic a description. Breathing is breathing, kissing limits air supply. But it was certainly enjoyable. Not as precise as with Selina, but infinitely more emotional.

Harley's hands tentatively made their way down from Pam's shoulders to encircle her waist and Pamela smiled because this reality had gone on far too long to be a dream. She'd just begun to probe the blonde's lips with her tongue when Ms. Quinzel's voice carried down the hall: "Harleen, is Pam going to stay for dinner?"

"No." Harley yelled back, momentarily separating from Pamela's lips. "Her mom wants her home at 6."

"No- I'll stay." Pam said as she stroked Harley's cheek with her thumb.

Harley's eyes were excited and sympathetic all at once. "You're gonna get in trouble."

Pamela shook her head. "Nonsense. I promised you a tutoring session."

"Yeah?" Harley giggled. "What's today's lesson?"

The redhead grinned. "The electric or magnetic force from a body or particle that draws another towards it."

"Oh?" Harley raised an eyebrow. "What do they call that?"

"Attraction." Pamela pulled Harley into a kiss more searing than the last.

/

The most common phrase running through Harleen Quinzel's mind on that Sunday evening just before dinnertime was _This is really happening_.

Harley's hands were slipping around Pam's waist to touch her lower back! _This is really happening._

OMG that was Pamela Isley's _tongue_ pressing delicately yet insistently against Harley's lips as they kissed against her bedroom door! _This is really happening._

Pam makes science puns when she's making out with someone! _Okay, actually that one isn't much of a surprise._

It took all of Harley's (not very extensive) willpower to keep their kisses fairly chaste for now – she was drowning in the soft feel of Pam's skin, the press of her lips, her intoxicating scent – but some gentlemanly part of Harley's mind realized that Pam had only ever kissed one person, and the situation with Selina seemed a little sketchy. So that made Harley the "experienced" one (she'd had a fairly free-range upbringing and was extremely outgoing and not very cautious, so . . . there you go).

And she didn't want to do anything to ruin this.

Because it was really, truly happening.

(But when Harley's mom called them for dinner, and Pam pulled away – breathless, wide-eyed, and actually _pouting_ that they had to stop – Harley still could not believe her good fortune.)

/

"So, Pamela…" Harley's mother prompted as she served her a bowl of cheesy pasta shaped like rabbits. "How is junior year treating you so far? Will you be applying to colleges soon? No shame in not if you're—"

Pam choked on her water and Harley laughed. "Pam's top of the class, Mom. Pretty sure she's going Ivy League."

"Really?" The older woman was impressed.

"The goal is to be accepted to all eight." Pamela informed her as she stabbed awkwardly at a slippery noodle with her fork.

"Are you a genius?" The oldest boy- Harry- asked, much to the surprise of the table.

"Yes." Pamela answered plainly.

Harley's mother laughed like the answer was a joke she'd deadpanned.

"I have a measured IQ of 159." Pam's battle with the pasta was turning desperate. _This food is stupid_ , she decided. "To put that in context, Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking are believed to have an IQ of 160."

"That's right." Harley snatched the fork from her hand in a display that wasn't exactly congruent with the table etiquette Pamela had been taught. "Pam's gonna be a scientist. Plants are her jam." She grinned to herself, collecting enough material from Pam's plate for a healthy mouthful, and even raised it to the other girl's lips before she stopped suddenly, handing the fork back to Pam and turning to her own dinner once more.

Pamela stared down at the fork. _Was she about to…_

"Are you a model?" Harry asked another question.

"No," the redhead told him before finally taking her first bite of food. She didn't much care for the texture, but chewed and swallowed regardless. Ms. Quinzel had gone through the trouble of…boiling water, the least Pam could do was eat it.

Ms. Quinzel smiled kindly, an expression that Pam decided she liked very much. "But you could be."

"So could Harley." Pam told her, smirking at the blush it prompted in Harley's cheeks.

"Yeah, but you're hotter." Harry assured the redhead, and Harley volleyed a carrot at him in response.

Pamela couldn't help but smile at the dynamics. This was a Sunday family dinner, yet everyone seemed to be enjoying each other's company. The table itself was small, making their conversation seem intimate, but none of it was uncomfortable. Harley's family was warm and inviting, they seemed interested in Pam and what she had to say. It drew a sharp contrast to how Harley had been treated in Pam's home. The redhead attempted to communicate a silent apology by squeezing Harley's hand beneath the table. She wasn't sure the blonde understood her meaning, but she grinned all the same.

/

Harley grinned at how Pam's presence changed her family's dinnertime dynamics – and all for the better. Harry hadn't spoken _two_ sentences at dinner since he turned 12, and he'd just said three things in a row. Henry hadn't broken anything in at least an hour.

And Zeb . . . Harley watched his eyes shine as he gazed at Pam, and wondered absently whether she had the same goofy grin on her face.

Yeah, probably.

She looked up and caught her mom's eye then. Harley couldn't quite read the expression on her mom's face in that moment – it was a little wistful, a little proud, a little concerned. But then she smiled at Harley, looking ten years younger, and there was yet another thing they could thank Pamela Isley for.

Pam was using a carrot to shovel white cheddar bunnies onto her fork now. It was so endearing that Harley almost didn't mind the fact that she'd had to let go of her hand beneath the table.

Almost. Her hand still tingled a little, but it felt cold from the absence of Pam's warm smooth palm.

She leaned over and whispered in the redhead's ear ( _was that a shiver as Harley's breath ghosted over her skin?_ ): "Do you want me to ask my mom for a spoon? Ooh, maybe a sippy cup?"

Pam gave her a haughty look and Harley batted her eyes back at her, shrugging and spreading her hands innocently.

It was only when Henry knocked his cup over that they finally looked away.

 **Bonus Question: Anyone else got a nerdy pick up line?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Actual conversation between actual authors #7:**

 **AmerZ10: I'm a fantastic (selective) reader, and there are some stories out there that I just can't even-they're too cute. Helps that Harley/Ivy is the only fandom I really partake in.**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: haha ur so gay 4 them**

 **AmberZ10: Totally unapologetically 100%**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: awesome**

 **AmberZ10: I'm gay for them the same way Selina is. Like a weirdly possessive straight girl.**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: I don't know how I'm gay for them. Probably just like a lesbian.**

The parking lot was nearly empty when Alec dropped Pam off on Monday morning. She supposed that it was due to the early hour, as the majority of her peer group tended not to share Pam's passion for punctuality.

Or – if she were being perfectly honest – they didn't share her current mission to spend as little time in the Isley manor as possible.

"My schedule for this afternoon isn't finalized yet, Alec," Pam said as she exited the car. "I'll contact you if I need a lift."

"Sure thing, Ms. Isley," Alec said genially, tipping his cap as he shut the back door for her.

Pam allowed herself a moment to reflect on the surprise she'd planned for Harley that afternoon, not aware of the smile on her lips or the slight pink flush on her cheeks. She'd been actively working to bring it to fruition since the idea first occurred to her in the relative quiet of Harley's bedroom.

(Other ideas that had occurred to Pam but which she'd not yet had the opportunity to fully execute included: giving Harley a private tennis lesson on her tennis court and then whisking her behind a tree and kissing her; sneaking Harley to the projection room above the auditorium and kissing her; taking a private jet to Paris and treating Harley to dinner on the Champs-Elysees . . . and then kissing her.)

She shook her head slightly, attempting to clear it, chastising herself (not unkindly) for getting distracted from her reflection by thoughts of Harley's soft lips. _The plan, Pamela, think through the plan!_ She'd come up with the plan during dinner and had identified concrete next steps while Harley walked her to her car and they shyly kissed goodbye. The initial research phase had commenced as soon as Pam had parked the Tesla and quietly crept up the back staircase, wishing to avoid whatever unpleasant, chilly, passive-aggressive treatment her mother felt like dishing out in response to Pam's absence during dinner. And when she'd completed the necessary research, she'd made a late evening phone call to put the entire plan in motion.

They would meet at precisely 5:10pm, allowing Pam enough time to wrap up her tennis practice and get to the front of the school. And from there . . . it would just be her and Harley.

Pam was quite satisfied, both with her objectivity in the matter and with the rapid turnaround time. As she walked through the dimly lit entrance hall, she tried to assess which moment she anticipated more eagerly: the big reveal this afternoon, or the first time she would see Harley at school since they . . . whatever this was.

 _Wait – what_ is _this?_ Pam thought. It suddenly occurred to her that while she was prone to constant, specific flights of fancy regarding herself and Harley, she had yet to take a step back from the situation and ponder the big picture.

The attraction was mutual – that was obvious, blindingly so. And the beginning overtures of a friendship were there as well. But – were they 'together' now? Pam suspected as much, though of course she hadn't had a chance to discuss it with Harley yet.

She concluded that for now, the logical thing to do would be to maintain the status quo at school until the two of them could come to an agreement on how to proceed.

And as she walked, she imagined happening upon Harley in this deserted hallway, knowing that if she did, she'd push her right up against the lockers and kiss her breathless.

/

Someway, somehow- probably divine intervention- the bus was running on time that morning, getting Harley to school a comfortable 15 minutes early. Usually she would bike to school, but she wasn't sure if…after gymnastics, maybe…well, she hadn't talked to Pam yet. Not like she had to, not like they were a…well…look, riding the bus was easier, OK?

Harley made a beeline straight for Professor Gordon's classroom, not because Pam might be there or anything. Harley didn't already like "miss her" or whatever, she just…maybe Professor Gordon might have some tips for Harley on how to succeed in her class or in life or something. Professor Gordon seemed…wise. Definitely. She wore glasses and seemed pretty young to be a teacher, so…yeah. She was obviously super smart and probably had a lot of wisdom and was just waiting to dispense it to a kid in need of direction or something.

Pam was not there when Harley entered, but Professor Gordon certainly was. Professor Gordon and…Selina. Selina and Bruce. _Great_. The couple was sitting at their desks speaking in relatively harsh whispers and because Harley's assigned seat was right in front of theirs, she decided to delay her arrival just slightly.

"Good morning, Professor Gordon." Harley greeted her with a broad grin.

The woman was sipping a mug of coffee and somewhat distractedly scrolling through what was probably today's lesson plan on her iPad. But she did look up at the sound of Harley's voice. "Good morning, Ms. Quinzel. Seems like you got a head start on me." She raised her mug to indicate she meant in terms of caffeine consumption.

"I think the more chocolate syrup you put into it, the faster it hits the bloodstream." Harley winked, prompting a good-natured chuckle from the professor.

"I don't doubt that," she said. "But I can't exactly go down to the gymnasium and work it off like I used to."

Harley's face sunk, realizing she meant because she was in a wheelchair.

Professor Gordon laughed again. "Harley, honey, I made the joke. Don't get depressed on me."

 _Still sucks you can't walk, though_.

The older woman pressed on when Harley didn't offer a verbal response. "Are you ready for your first meet?"

The blonde's eyes lit up and a smile animated her features once more. "I hope so. Hey, how did you know I was a gymnast?"

Professor Gordon smiled as she set her coffee down on her desk. "Would you believe me if I told you I used to be a gymnast here?"

"Shut up!" _Harley! You can't tell a teacher to shut up! Even if you're being friendly._ "Sorry, sorry—I mean, really?"

"Yeah." The professor laughed. "Class of 2003. State all around champ my junior year."

"So then where'd you go to college? Did you keep competing?" Harley had never been so interested in a teacher.

"Cal Berkley." Selina piped up from where she sat, interrupting her conversation with Bruce. "Barbara Gordon, collegiate silver medalist."

The professor nodded. "That's right, if not a little creepy, Ms. Kyle."

Harley would have laughed had that not been the moment that Pamela swept into the room. Backpack draped stylishly over one shoulder, glamorous hair bouncing with each sure-footed step. She addressed the room with a dazzling smile.

Selina affected a southern drawl: "Pamela Isley, only 8 minutes early, why I never!"

Pam's hand grazed Harley's just for a moment as she brushed past her to take her seat near Bruce and Selina.

Harley didn't realize how silly her lopsided grin must have appeared until she looked back and saw Professor Gordon's perplexed expression.

/

AP Literature was challenging for Pam under the best of circumstances.

It wasn't that she had any kind of issue absorbing the material – far from it. She could tell from the way Professor Gordon spoke about literature, however, that the professor overvalued the emotional response invoked by a great work, perhaps even more than its intellectual contributions. And Pam would greatly prefer analyzing and deconstructing classic works over having to write about her _feelings_ in some kind of . . . feelings journal.

Thus, even under normal circumstances, AP Literature required that Pam bring every ounce of her considerable willpower to bear if she wanted to focus and perform adequately.

And it was impossible to consider these normal circumstances.

Not when she could _feel_ Harley sitting there to her right, evoking memories of the first time they'd sat in these same chairs – _was that only a week ago? It seemed like far longer_ – not when she could smell the faintest scent of the lotion Pam had given her, somehow smelling fresher and lighter on Harley than it did on Pam – not when every inch of her skin felt as though it were buzzing and flickering like a light bulb that wasn't quite screwed in all the way.

It was quite disconcerting.

Pam forced herself to stare straight ahead, likely unnerving Professor Gordon with the constancy of her gaze, but she knew that if she so much as caught Harley's eye, their entire situation would be laid bare on Pam's face for everyone to see.

When the bell finally rang, Pam let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She sat there, unmoving, until Selina cleared her throat imperiously behind her. "Yes?" Pam croaked, turning to see Selina crooking an eyebrow and Bruce wearing his normal confident grin.

"Ten minutes before we all split up for second period," Selina said a bit coldly. "And you know Bruce's bananas aren't going to fellate themselves."

"Selina," Professor Gordon warned from her desk.

"My apologies, Professor. My friends and I will just be going now," Selina said, her voice smooth as honey. She swept past Pam's desk and Bruce trailed after her.

"As much as you know I enjoy watching Bruce satisfy his extensive metabolic needs," said Pam, "I-I need to get to AP Biology early today and speak with Professor Woodrue."

Selina rolled her eyes and kept walking, for once opting not to engage, and it was only when Pam turned to follow her that she realized Harley had already slipped out of the classroom. Pam's heart sank right into the red soles of her Louboutins and stayed there . . .

. . . for about 30 seconds, until she exited the classroom and locked eyes with two clear, smiling blue ones, just before blonde pigtails bounced around a distant corner.

 _You're Pamela Isley_ , she reminded herself as she hurried after her. _Head high, chin up, maintain decorum._

And then Harley's hands were fisting in the front of her shirt, tugging her insistently into an empty stairwell, and their lips met effortlessly, hungrily as Pam's back pressed against the cool wall of the stairwell, and decorum was quite literally the farthest thing from her mind.

After a few moments of breathless kissing, Harley pulled back and looked up at Pam. She released the front of Pam's shirt and swiped vaguely at it, attempting to smooth it down, giggling at her fruitless efforts. Then she nuzzled against Pam's collar affectionately and said, "Hi."

"H-hi," Pam said, easing her tight grip on Harley's hips and doing a little smoothing of her own.

"Well, this is embarrassing," said Harley, taking a step back to look her up and down.

 _Wait…she's embarrassed? Of me?_ Pam thought a bit desperately, but Harley was grinning so mischievously that she quickly realized it was a joke of some kind.

Harley gestured back and forth between the two of them, indicating their uniforms. "We totally wore the same outfit!"

Pam's startled laugh echoed in the empty space, and she clapped a hand to her mouth. "Come on," Harley said, "we'd better get to bio. You go first and I'll come in a few."

And if there was a tinge of sadness to Harley's words, Pam chose not to investigate it just then, instead nodding at the practicality of the plan and reluctantly tearing herself away from the girl who was quickly becoming a focal point of her life.

/

"Gravity, bitch!" Selina yelled, startling Roxy so thoroughly that she lost her balance, falling to the mat below the beam. "That's what the pressure sounds like, Curly Sue. And it will never, ever, go away- like a bad case of gonorrhea or some dumb dog you found in an alley. Now get up and do it again."

Harley furrowed her brow as she watched Roxy dust herself off and jump back onto the beam. "Is that an Annie reference?"

"You bet your ass it is." Selina's arms were crossed indignantly. "Annie is an American classic."

Harley couldn't help but laugh. "Does that make you Ms. Hannigan?"

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Selina asked, a glamorous eyebrow raised. "Because, right now, it definitely feels like I'm dripping with little girls. Get your ass back on the uneven bars, Crotch Rocket. I refuse to let the team be docked points because you can't hold a fucking handstand."

"Harley's not a bar specialist." Talia argued.

"Thanks for the input, Resident Evil." Selina shot back. "But frankly, I don't care. We want to win the team all around, correct?"

"Yeah." Cassandra, who was stretching on the side, admitted. "But you seem extra pissy today."

"You know what, Kiki's Delivery Service? Why don't you stick a landing every once in a while. Then maybe I'd care about your opinion on my temperament." Selina spat.

Roxy landed a front flip on the beam without wobbling. "I'm pretty sure she's still hung over from Friday. I heard she fucked Pam Isley so Bruce is going to dump her."

"Crotch Rocket, please tell me Shirley Temple over there didn't just speak about me like I wasn't here."

But Harley was suddenly too angry at the misinformation to register what Selina was saying. _No, I took Pam home that night to make sure that DIDN'T happen_. She could feel her face getting hot but wasn't sure who to direct her emotions at…Selina was probably the best candidate, but Selina was also drunk that night and drunk people do stupid things, so maybe the situation wasn't 100% her fault. That J kid certainly hadn't helped things. Harley was somehow able to get herself slightly under control before responding: "Bruce isn't going to dump her, and she didn't sleep with Pamela Isley."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Roxy laughed as she began her dismount.

"How about you tap dance your way to the showers." Selina sneered, roughly tossing Roxy her water bottle. "And go wash that mouth out with some soap!" She waited for her to exit in favor of the locker room before turning to the other girls. "I'm not trying to be a bitch; I'm trying to make us better. If anybody else has a problem, I will see you tomorrow. Our first meet is in a week. We HAVE to buckle down."

Harley nodded along to her captain's words. She might not agree with Selina completely, she definitely seemed to take pride in her general bitchiness, but this was part of the reason she'd transferred to Gotham Prep. And anyway, you don't have to like someone to respect them, and she definitely respected Selina as a gymnast. "Let's go." Harley helped Cass to her feet. "Do you think we could see your floor routine again?"

Cass sighed. "Yeah, fine."

And was that…a smile on Selina Kyle's lips?

The first thing Harley did when she got to her locker was to check her phone. _She doesn't have to text you, Harley. Just chill, OK?_ But when she unlocked the screen to find a text from Pam waiting for her, she couldn't contain her giddiness. The message itself was simple: **Meet me at the drive-through three blocks over.**

Harley giggled- only Pamela Isley would spell out the word "three" in a text message. She touched up her makeup as quickly as she could, deciding just to pull some sweats on over her leotard and go because the text had come a half hour ago, meaning Pam was already waiting.

Selina watched her curiously, but didn't attempt to talk to her before the blonde burst out into the waning daylight and- despite her exhaustion- began her jog towards the drive-through. Harley tried to ignore the fact that she would probably look like a hot mess in comparison to Pam because she figured Pam would appreciate her being on time more than in a cuter outfit.

And then…there she was. Harley slowed as she rounded the corner into the parking lot and saw the redhead leaning against a sleek, red convertible Tesla. Harley could identify the brand now as it was the same as Pam's other car.

"Is that…" Harley approached her, panting. "Is that a new car?"

Pamela's perfection came complete with a knowing smirk. "It is."

"Why do you…" The blonde rested her hands on her knees, squinting up at Pamela through the day's final rays of sunlight. "Why do you need a new car? Yours works totally fine."

"I don't need a new car." Pamela laughed. "But it's come to my attention that you don't have one at all."

The color drained from Harley's face. "You didn't…"

"I did." Pamela grinned from ear to ear. "I'm sorry it's not the exact model as the picture in your room depicted- I researched and the gas consumption for a 1965 Chevy Impala was just far too severe for me to openly support. This one is electric, you see, but also quite stylish."

Harley's mind was absolutely blank. She didn't even know how to think about this…gift. "You bought me a _car_?"

Pamela nodded, but her smile began to fade as she observed Harley's expression. "Do people not often buy cars for others?"

"You can't be this rich." _Be nice, Harley!_ "I mean, your mom is only a makeup scientist." _Shut up, shut up, shut up._

Pamela's expression suddenly turned cold, and she looked more like her mother in that moment than either of them would probably care to admit. "My mother is the lead chemist at a cosmetics company that my father owns. I could buy you five cars if I wanted to."

 _Oh…_

"I don't want you riding the bus. The schedules are unpredictable." Pamela crossed her arms, but her expression wasn't angry, it was almost…embarrassed.

 _This girl saw a picture on my wall, went home, did research, made a purchase and then gave me a fucking CAR all in the span of 24 hours._ And then suddenly Harley was launching herself at Pamela, kissing her, hard, up against the side of the car. "That's so stupidly thoughtful, Pam. You can't just go buying random girls cars! That's crazy! This is a crazy gift!" She kissed her again. "You're so weird and beautiful and buying someone a car is weird and beautiful and—"

This time it was Pam that kissed Harley- likely to silence her.

 **Bonus Question: Is Pam's gift weird or cute?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Actual conversation between actual authors #8:**

 **AmberZ10: It's up**

 **AmberZ10: My dick, I mean. Obviously I mean my dick and not chapter 14.**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: OBVIOUSLY. I just assume it's that. Good to know you posted a chapter too, though.**

If you'd told Harley a week ago that on this Monday afternoon, she'd be standing in the parking lot of a fast food drive-through, trading eager yet chaste kisses with the most gorgeous, arguably most popular girl at Gotham Prep against _the car she had just bought for Harley_ . . . well, she probably would have smiled and made a joke about it, but as you walked away she would have been concerned for your mental state.

Yet here she was, here _they_ were, doing just that.

Until suddenly, both girls realized their current proximity to the school and broke apart. Pam bit her lower lip and smiled shyly, while Harley tucked an errant strand of blonde hair behind her ear and moved to lean against the car beside Pam, their shoulders touching.

"Thanks," she said softly. "This is – you're incredible."

Pam sighed. "You make it hard to keep my hands off of you when you say things like that," she said, hurrying through the words as if she wasn't quite sure she should be saying them out loud.

"Do you have to?" Harley asked, scuffing her toe against the asphalt of the parking lot. "Keep your hands off of me?"

There was a lot below the surface of those words, and they both knew it. "I-I don't know," Pam said, her tone a bit guarded. "It's just – I've never – we don't even really know what this is yet." She paused. "Do we?"

Harley thought for a minute, overheated now in the late afternoon sun from her sweats and the jog over and – probably – her feelings. She instinctively moved her arm over slightly and reached for Pam's hand, missing a little on the first try but quickly solidifying her grip and twining their fingers together.

"Well," she said, "I think . . . we probably don't have to define it right now. But –" she cleared her throat and looked at her foot some more – "I like you, like _like_ you like you, and I know that sounds super middle school but I needed you to hear it." She risked a glance over at Pam, who was now looking at her own feet in a 100% unsuccessful attempt to hide her grin. Harley breathed in new courage and went on. "And I think it's pretty clear where we stand when it's just the two of us, but at school I get that it's hard. Lunchroom politics and Selina's scary smiles and just, I don't know, it's weird. But eventually – not today, but eventually – we'll need to figure out where we stand when we're at school, too." She squeezed Pam's hand, and the redhead finally turned to look at her. Harley shrugged. "Whatcha think?"

Pam leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Harley's lips, smiling at the blonde's wide-eyed look of surprise. "I think," she murmured, "that until we get all these things figured out, we need to spend as much time hanging out alone as humanly possible." Now it was Harley's turn to grin, and they looked at each other for a second before Pam said, "Well, do you want to take me home now?"

Harley burst out laughing and Pam blushed. "I didn't mean – ugh, you know what I meant!" she said. "Would you like to drive your new car? And also, I left my driver at home today, so I was merely being practical."

"I'd love to," said Harley, looking up at her, "but at my old school, there was a fee for Driver's Ed, and for the license itself, and we figured that if I wasn't gonna be driving anyway . . ."

"You don't know how to drive?" Pam said.

"That's what I'm sayin'," said Harley.

"Well then, get in," the redhead insisted, reluctantly letting go of Harley's hand and walking around to the passenger side. "This is your first driving lesson." When Harley hesitated, Pam said, "I assure you, I'm quite qualified."

Harley burst out laughing yet again – _god, she's adorable_ – said, "Whatever you say, Red," and climbed into the driver's seat.

/

"No, Harley." Pamela said in her most patient voice. "This is an automatic transmission."

"Then why the hell is there a gear shift right there!" Harley was already panicked and they hadn't even started moving yet.

"Shifting from park to reverse, or drive or neutral is all this gear shift is responsible for. Unless you're going to change directions, you can keep both hands on the steering wheel." Pamela demonstrated this by lifting Harley's hand off of the gear shift and clasping it around the leather wheel. The blonde nodded earnestly, and Pam couldn't keep a smile off her face. "Now we did our safety checks? Walked all the way around the car, adjusted our mirrors?" Harley nodded again. "Great, so now, if you're ready, go ahead and put your foot on the brake."

"Why?" Harley was incredulous. "We're not even moving."

Pamela giggled. "It's how you start the car."

"Pam, don't be mean." Harley pouted. "I know a key starts a car, not a brake. I'm not that dumb."

"There isn't a key." Pam told her, the ghost of her laughter still lingering in her features. "There's just this." She produced the fob from her pocket and Harley eyed her suspiciously.

"I think you owe my brother an apology. This is a space car."

Pam chuckled. "Will you just trust me, please? Press the brake."

Harley narrowed her gaze. "You have to swear you're not messing with me."

"Swear on what?" The redhead asked, crossing her arms.

Harley thought for a moment. "Swear on your biology textbook."

Pamela looked her in the eyes with all the sincerity a human being could possess, then leaned over and kissed her- slowly, deeply, until Harley's hands left the steering wheel and wrapped around her neck- and by the time they separated Harley was closer to the color of Pam's hair than to her natural pale complexion. "Press the brake," Pamela urged, gently.

Harley bit her lip and did just that. True to Pam's word, the car's engine did start, and Harley turned back to Pam excitedly.

"Good." Pam smiled. "Now check your zones and put the car in drive."

"Not reverse?" Harley asked, her hands nervously gripping the wheel.

"We're in a parking lot," the redhead reminded her. "There's plenty of room to maneuver. Let's just work on going forward first."

Harley took a deep breath. "OK, here goes nothing." And slammed her foot down on the gas.

"No! Harley! Gradual!"

/

At lunch the next day, Harley was still thinking about that lesson. She'd only had a couple of brief moments with Pam that morning: Selina had spirited her away after AP Lit, and Woodrue had separated them in AP Bio after he caught them whispering one too many times. So Harley's mind returned, over and over, to their last meaningful contact.

Harley hadn't been quite ready to leave the parking lot just yet, so Pam had driven them to Harley's apartment complex and cut the engine (using magic, no doubt). They turned to face one another shyly, leaning their heads against their seat backs.

"Let me guess," Harley said. "That was . . . satisfactory for a first attempt?" Her impression of Pam was so dead-on that Pam smacked her lightly on the shoulder, mock offended. Harley caught her hand and held it in both of hers, then turned it over to look at her palm. She was expecting smooth, perfect skin, so the calluses took her by surprise and reminded her that in addition to everything else Pamela Isley was, she was also a hard-working athlete.

Harley impulsively pressed her lips firmly to the center of Pam's palm, then brushed them more gently along the inside of her wrist. "Thanks for the car," she whispered. Then she looked up at Pam through her eyelashes and only had a second to process the wild look in the redhead's eyes before Pam was lunging over the console, crashing their lips together, pressing Harley back into her seat as her tongue slid hungrily against Harley's.

 _Well, this is new_ , thought Harley as she reached up both hands to tangle them in Pam's hair, as she felt a sharp, almost painful jolt a few inches below her belly button.

After not nearly long enough, Pam pulled back slightly, pressing her forehead to Harley's, both of them breathing hard. "You're welcome," she said, then sighed as she retreated back into her own seat.

Harley cleared her throat. "So, you're sure it's cool to keep the car at your house until I can actually, y'know, drive it?"

"Of course," said Pam, regaining a bit of her composure. "We have the space for it."

"Do you have space for all _five_ of my cars?" Harley asked, a wicked glint in her eye.

"It's quite a large garage," Pam said. Then she looked a little sheepish. "Oh – you're joking."

"Yes, quite," said Harley. She leaned over and pecked Pam on the cheek. "See you tomorrow," she said quietly, and Pam smiled.

She was still smiling as she pulled out of Harley's parking lot.

And now Harley was too, as she dragged her attention back to the present.

". . . and that's when I decided that omphalophobia is the funniest phobia of all!" Jonathan concluded triumphantly. Edward laughed, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Harley was only dimly aware of any of it – Jonathan's phobia-of-the-week story, Eddie's creepy half-smile, the bouillabaisse that was currently dripping off her tilted spoon – because for the third time in five minutes, Pam's gaze had casually flicked over to their table, snaring Harley like an emerald tractor beam.

 _A tractor beam? I've been spending too much time with these guys_ , Harley thought, then instantly felt guilty for having mildly traitorous thoughts about the first two people to be nice to her in the entire school.

As if psychically summoned by Harley's train of thought, Talia and Roxy appeared at their table. "Hey, Harley. Finish your food. We're going to practice in the gym," Roxy said.

"During lunch?" Harley asked dumbly. Edward and Jonathan weren't faring any better – both were gaping openly at the two gymnasts, who were at least 2.25 levels of social standing above them.

"Harley . . . just go," Edward said out of one side of his mouth. Talia and Roxy exchanged a look.

"Okay!" said Harley, brightening. "Let's do this!" She picked up her bowl and chugged a little bouillabaisse for the road, then stood up and followed Talia and Roxy across the cafeteria.

Their route to the tray return took them right past the varsity jocks' table, and as the little group of gymnasts drew even with that table, several things happened.

Selina looked at them disdainfully, but Harley swore she saw something close to – pride – in that steely glare. The queen bee was too busy twirling a lock of hair around her finger and mouthing _Curly Sue_ at Roxy to notice that Talia looked directly at Bruce and smiled. It was tiny, and knowing, and intimate. And the look made Harley lurch a bit because it was definitely heated, somehow. Harley selfishly sought just one second of her own loaded eye contact.

But Pamela Isley was nothing if not committed to previously agreed-upon plans, and if they'd agreed to maintain the status quo in public, that's exactly what she would do. Her gaze never once wavered from Dick Grayson, who was animatedly recounting a story across from her, during the tiny eternity when Harley was walking past her table.

Harley pretended to be extremely interested in her tray . . . and then in the mechanics of the tray return . . . and then in her cuticles, the tiled floor, anything that would keep her head down and her puppy-dog eyes hidden, her true feelings hidden, as she and her teammates made their way to the gym.

/

"No, Dick. I'm not saying theoretical physics is useless." Pamela sighed.

"Then what are you saying? Because I'm pretty sure that's literally what you just said." Dick took a long slurp of his chocolate milk.

Pam was trying hard to forget she now knew he fantasized about Professor Gordon. "I think it's a fantastic choice of major for someone with…an imagination. Theoretical physics is about rationalizing, explaining and predicting. But that's just it, it's not a physical science. With experimental physics you get to probe the phenomena you observe."

"Theoretical physics is still a branch of physics. Physics is a physical science; therefore, theoretical physics is too." Dick argued, crinkling his empty milk carton in his hand.

Pam rolled her eyes. "I meant 'physical' in the literal sense of the word. Theoretical physicists work in classrooms, not labs. Their experiments are _theoretical_ , as in 'based on or calculated through theory rather than experience or practice.'"

"OK, well…" Dick opened up a protein bar from his backpack, having already finished his lunch. "I can't remember why we started this."

"Me neither." Pam admitted as she felt rather than saw Harley exit the lunchroom with Roxy and Talia. Bruce was watching them openly- his eyes lingering on Talia- and Pam took the initiative to kick him in the shin underneath the table.

He jumped and Selina looked at him oddly, but ultimately turned her attention to Pam. "When's your first match?"

"Next Wednesday," the redhead told her as she absently swirled the broth that was left in her bowl.

Selina attempted to clarify: "What time?"

"5:30." Pam said, nodding at Diana as she sat down at the table.

"Oh, good." Selina smiled. "I'll come then. Bruce too."

Pam grinned, although her expression was tinged with the sudden dilemma of now not being able to invite Harley. "It isn't supposed to be a good match."

"Well, that's all right. I'd rather watch a blowout." Selina assured her with a mischievous smirk. "You make the cutest little face when your opponent runs off the court crying."

"I've had a lot of practice." Pam winked, prompting a laugh from the brunette as she got up. She knew that this was probably just Selina trying to make up for their "disagreement", but her momentary kindness still charmed Pam, like it always had.

"Then it's a date." Selina grabbed her backpack. "I need to talk to Dent about the test we took on Friday. I think his scantron machine fucked up."

"You just keep telling yourself that." Bruce chuckled as Selina planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Toodaloo, assholes!" She waved over her shoulder, exiting the cafeteria.

Bruce got up. "I should probably go too."

"Not to the gymnasium, I hope." There was a warning to Pamela's tone that managed to fix Bruce in place.

"Dick?" Diana turned to the other boy. "Kindly escort Master Bruce safely from the cafeteria, and see to it his Richard remains tucked away in his trousers during the remaining 10 minutes of the lunch period."

"Yes, Princess." Dick pretended to tip his cap to her as he got up from his seat and threw his arm around Bruce's shoulders. "Let's go, old chum. We don't need to put our fingers in all the pies, now do we?"

Once the boys left, Pam began to gather up her things before Diana stopped her. "Now hold on," the raven haired girl said, her tone mock serious. "Last time we saw each other you were sucking on Selina's tongue."

"I was-!"

"Shh…" Diana pat her on the shoulder. "I know drunk Selina can be a bit handsy. It's all good. And Selina got the video destroyed anyway, so it really doesn't matter."

Pam settled back into her chair. "How?"

Diana quirked an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?"

Pam considered for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I don't think I do."

"Good answer." Diana smiled, eyeing the banana still on Pamela's tray. "Are you gonna eat that?"

"What? Oh—no. I can't ever eat them around Bruce." Pam told her.

"Well Bruce isn't here, so…"

"I know," Pam sighed. "It's just…seeing him eat them. I don't…the taste is somehow fleshy now. I know it's psychological, but it's still unnerving."

Diana burst out laughing. "Say no more. I'm going to eat it, though, because my appetite overrides my gag reflex."

And now it was Pamela's turn to laugh. "You're very lucky Selina isn't here right now."

"Yes." Diana giggled as she peeled it. "I really, really am. By the way, tell me about you and blondie."

Pam panicked internally, attempting to maintain a cool exterior. "The New Wave Punk band from the mid to late 1970s?"

"Oh my God." Diana laughed. "I can't believe you actually tried that. No, Pamela. I mean Crotch Rocket."

"Harley." Pamela was quick to correct.

"Harley." Diana smiled, chewing her first bite of banana. "So have you two gone out yet? I know she's into you."

Pamela was almost alarmed at how quickly she blushed. "N-no." She said, attempting to put her foot down on the matter. "I don't—no—that's not it. How's Mera?"

Diana raised an eyebrow as her chewing slowed. "OK, so all this insecurity is adorable, but super out of character. Seriously, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" Pamela attempted to make it sound like she was offended at the insinuation that anything had changed at all.

"OK, alien girl." Diana narrowed her eyes and proceeded with caution. "I'll tell you what…Mera is leaving town on Friday, how about Thursday night you go out with us, you and Harley. I'm sure she could benefit from hearing you and Mera's conversation, since I'm assuming you'll be talking about how cool oceanic rocks are or something and I know Harley needs some tutoring."

"Actually, my expertise isn't in geology-"

"So that's a yes?" Diana interrupted to ask. "It'll be fun. We'll get dinner on the other side of town. Just the four of us. Yeah?"

"Well, I'll have to—"

"Yeah." Diana affirmed her own statement with a grin. "French?"

Pamela had to look at her for a moment before she realized Diana was referencing the classroom they were both supposed to be at in 2 minutes.

"French, and…yes."

 **Bonus Question: Where would you go on a double date?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Actual conversation between actual authors #8:**

 **areyoukiddingmedude: Good nap?**

 **AmberZ10: It's complicated.**

 **AYKMD: *Puts hand on chin, expectantly looks up at AZ* Go on...**

 **AZ10: Yes, well...the film (It's Complicated) was a bit disappointing, given the cast. Perhaps the sequel centering around my nap will be more interesting.**

 **AYKMD: *Nods solemnly, although very confused***

 **AZ10: *Pats AY on head* That'll do, pig. That'll do.**

 **AYKMD: Ima punch u**

 **/**

 **Team meeting. Probably won't be done until 5:30. Regardless, we should be at your house by 6.**

Harley read over the text she'd received from Pam after gymnastics several times. It sounded like they were definitely still on for tutoring, but just that Pam was running a little late. Harley didn't need to rely solely on Pam for rides, though- she could make other friends. She had made other friends. She, Roxy and Talia had spent more of the lunch period talking than actually practicing, although Harley did get to run through her bar routine, which was awesome because it was by far her worst apparatus. Roxy gave her some great tips on building grip strength that Harley knew would help her out a lot if she could solidify it all by their first meet.

"Hey, do any of you have a dollar for the bus?" Harley asked, although her shame almost stopped her. "I had a ride but they're gonna be late and I didn't bring any cash." _Hey, everybody, I'm poor!_

All four girls looked at her oddly. "No…" Cassandra finally broke the silence. "But I have a car. Do you need a ride?"

"Well I—no—I'll just wait." Harley responded quickly, focusing on lacing up her shoe.

"Seriously, Harley. It's fine. My parents pay for my gas anyway." This was the most Harley had ever heard Cassandra speak consecutively. But they'd had a good practice. Maybe "happy Cass" was more talkative.

Selina emerged from Coach Kane's office and Cass pulled on her stoic mask once more. "It's all right, KiKi. I got it." Selina told her.

Cass shrugged and zipped up her Gotham Prep hoodie, leaving the locker room with Roxy following close behind. Talia offered Harley a sympathetic look before exiting as well.

 _No, don't go!_

Selina sighed. "Come on, Crotchy."

 _I should have waited for Pam_ , Harley thought as she hurried with her shoes, Selina's judgmental gaze never wavering.

"You really don't have to do this," Harley reminded Selina as the brunette unlocked her car.

"Yes, I really do. You're on my team, Harley. A captain's job is to take care of her team."

Harley desperately looked over at the tennis courts one last time before closing the passenger door and locking herself into a car with the infamous Selina Kyle.

"Central, right?" the brunette asked as she sped off without first buckling her seat belt.

"Y-yeah." Harley stammered. "82nd."

Harley tried to keep her gaze straight ahead, but it kept wandering back to her driver, whose mouth was drawn into a hard line. The silence wasn't comfortable like it was with Pam, there was something festering, hanging in the air between them.

Selina obviously realized the awkwardness herself because she quickly reached forward and turned on the stereo. Harley was surprised when the speakers began blasting…classical music? _Can a person even blast classical music?_

Harley must have been making a face because Selina glared at her and said: "It's Bach. Have a little fucking respect."

Now a complex instrumental arrangement was at least filling the silence. Even so, Harley was still uncomfortable. "So…I heard your mom's a plastic surgeon?"

"Why? You thinking about getting some work done?" Selina made a turn, and seemed to reevaluate her answer. "Yes, my mother is a plastic surgeon."

Harley cleared her throat, noting Selina's slight change in tone. "Is that…cool?"

Selina shrugged. "I enjoy knowing who needed a new face."

The blonde sort of grunted in agreement and offered an awkward nod before sinking back into the seat. Selina was navigating the streets quickly and without a map. Harley wondered idly if she had googled her as well.

And then, as if she were reading Harley's mind, Selina muttered: "I was born down here."

"Huh?" Harley looked over at her.

The brunette wistfully glanced out her window as she stopped for a pedestrian. "My real mom overdosed in an apartment about two blocks over. 68th and Church? You know, where all the whores wait for their johns."

 _Wait, what?_ Harley opened her mouth to speak, but only a strange squeak came out before she shut it again. "Are you—wait, are you kidding?" Harley wanted to know. "I thought your mom was a doctor."

"I'm adopted, dumbass." Selina sped off, still not looking at Harley.

"When?" Harley asked after another moment of silence.

"I was three, not that it's any of your business." Selina informed her, loftily.

"Sorry, I just…" Harley was interrupted by a **Where are you?** text from Pam. **got a ride, meet me at my house** she replied before turning her attention back to Selina. "Were you there? When your mom…That must have been really hard."

"Umm…I'm sorry, Dr. Crotch Rocket-Quinzel. I can't remember you billing me for this session." Selina sneered. "Now where the fuck is your pineapple?"

"Wha-?" Harley furrowed her brow. "Are you calling me Spongebob Squarepants?"

"Yeah. You're too fucking happy all the time. It's gross," the brunette answered absently as she turned onto 82nd Ave. "So which one is it?"

Harley pointed to her building as it came into view and Selina pulled her Corvette over to the curb. Her passenger hopped out quickly, grabbing her bag and giving herself a good five feet of room on the sidewalk. The car pulled away without Selina offering so much as a word to Harley.

The blonde was still standing there, dumbfounded, when Pamela pulled up in Harley's convertible. She slammed the door harder than was necessary and came around the car in a heated approach.

"Harley, why didn't you tell me you had a ride? I gave you ample warning as to—"

Pamela's momentum was stopped when Harley ensnared her in a hungry kiss. She cupped Pam's jaw in both hands and brought their lips together with an intensity fueled by the time they'd spent apart. Pam's eyes remained open for a moment in surprise before she relaxed, wrapping her arms around Harley's waist and pulling her closer.

A car rumbled down the street and they separated quickly, but one of Pamela's hands managed to stay on Harley's hip.

"I missed you." Harley said, shyly, from beneath her eyelashes.

Pam grinned, and they just stood there, looking at each other for a moment in the early-September dusk before Pam's expression turned a bit more serious. "Who gave you a ride?"

"Umm…Selina, actually." Harley told her, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her sweats.

There was something surprisingly close to fear in Pam's eyes that Harley found almost amusing, but the redhead shook it off. "I don't think we'll have time for both driving and tutoring tonight."

"OK." Harley grinned. _It would be more comfortable in my room, but we'll be more alone in the car…Harley! You can't just base this decision on a better kissing location. You need a driver's license and you need to pass Biology. Real things are at stake here!_ With an internal sigh, Harley said: "How about we study. The sun's gonna go down soon. I don't know if I'm ready to drive in the dark."

Pam nodded sagely. "A valid concern."

Harley kissed her one last time before opening the door to the apartment and finding… _Mom!_

"Mom!" Harley said, trying to play off the blush in her cheeks as excitement. "I-I thought you were working tonight."

Ms. Quinzel shook her head. "I picked up a lunch shift tomorrow. Hey, Pam." The older woman smiled. "Is that a new car?"

Both girls froze. _If she saw the car from the window, she probably also saw…_

"Well—n-n—not exactly." Pam stammered, all her usual confidence drained.

"Actually, Mom." Harley stepped forward. "That car is…that car is my car. Pam bought me a car."

Ms. Quinzel now wore the same stunned look as Harley did when she opened the front door. "What?"

"I'm very wealthy." Pam assured her. "Exorbitantly so. Truly. It was no problem at all."

"And she's teaching me how to drive it! We were going to go tonight but we have to study instead because there's a test coming up on Friday and Pam is actually my biology tutor did I tell you that? Of course I told you that but yeah so um busy busy busy. I'm probably just going to have some taquitos for dinner or something is that cool? Or did you already make dinner or—it doesn't really matter it's just—"

"Harley." Pam said, softly, beside her. "You're talking really fast."

"Am I?" Harley asked. Her mother was still silent.

Pamela cleared her throat. "Ms. Quinzel, I purchased Harleen a car because relying on public transportation can be tedious. I am also paying for the monthly insurance, so I assure you this gift will come at no cost to your family."

"So…yeah." Harley grinned. "Mom, we can talk about it a whole bunch later, but right now I need to study."

"O-Okay." The older woman was still at a loss for a coherent sentence, but it was too late anyway, since Harley was already dragging Pam by the hand back to her bedroom.

/

"This feels like math." Harley complained, setting her pencil down on her notebook in defeat.

"Well…" Pam sighed, picking up the pencil and handing it back to her. "In some ways, it is like math. I suppose one could think of the traits like variables, if that makes it easier to understand."

"It doesn't make it easier." Harley pouted. "Nothing makes it easier. You may as well be speaking Latin right now."

"Si tibi placet Latine loqui…" Pam offered.

"You have got to be kidding me…" Harley grumbled as she turned back to her textbook.

Pam giggled. "So I take it that's a no, then?"

"I have no idea what you said, but yeah. No."

Pam smiled kindly as she put her hand beneath Harley's chin and directed it upward so they could look each other in the eyes. "Da mihi osculum." Harley clearly didn't understand the words, but their lips were too close to miss an opportunity for a kiss. So Pam allowed her to lean over and plant one on her lips. "See?" Pam giggled. "You're already on your way to learning Latin. I told you to give me a kiss, and you did."

Harley flushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think you should tell the teacher at school. Maybe he could incorporate that into his curriculum."

"Mmm…" Pamela considered it for a moment. "I imagine you'd have considerable pushback from the school board."

"That's a shame." Harley sighed.

Pamela wanted to reach out and kiss her like she had in the car. With passion and hunger and, well, tongue. But that was not the task at hand. That could wait until Harley had a basic understanding of a Punnett square. So Pam sighed as well (although likely for a different reason) and turned back to Harley's paper.

"A capital letter signifies a dominant trait. Brown eyes, for example, are a dominant trait. While blue eyes, like yours, are a recessive trait and will be represented by a lower-case letter." Pam explained. "Because a fetus incorporates the genetics of both its mother and father, you must set up the Punnett square to give both traits equal opportunity."

"OK…" Harley said, squinting slightly. "So two big B's and two little b's." She drew the letters around the square. "Now what?"

"You can think of each box as a child. That's what our text book asks us to do." Pam informed her, and Harley nodded, pencil still at the ready, concentration unbreakable (for the moment). "And now we're essentially going to multiply the variables, similar to what we would do in mathematics. Look, dominant-dominant, dominant-recessive, dominant-recessive, recessive-recessive."

Harley bit her tongue as she followed Pam's direction and filled out the squares with the appropriate letters. "Well fine, now we got a buncha letters in boxes. So what?"

Pam smiled and scooted closer to Harley, taking the girl's hand and using it to point to the first box. "This child has brown eyes." She slid the finger over. "Brown eyes." And again. "Brown eyes." Her voice was a whisper when she made it to the final box. "Blue eyes."

"Aw, Pammy, we made a baby!" Harley grinned. Pam rolled her eyes affectionately, kissed her cheek and then backed off again.

"So how come my brothers and me all have blue eyes?" Harley inquired, turning her hand to interlace her fingers with Pam's.

"Well, what color are your father's eyes?" Pam asked. "I already know your mother's are blue."

Harley had to think for a second. "His are blue too."

"Then set up another square with only recessive traits- little b's- as variables." Pam instructed.

Harley did as she was told, but realized the point halfway through. "Oh! So without the big b's, the little b's are sorta like the dominant ones."

Pamela giggled at the simplistic language. "I suppose."

"Yay!" Harley clapped her hands together. "Whew! That was hard work. I should probably get a reward, right?"

"What did you have in mind?" Pam grinned. "How about one of—these." She kissed Harley, slowly, and it built in intensity until Pamela once again summoned her courage and ran her tongue across Harley's. The blonde's hands- again -threaded through her hair, and so Pamela probed further, slipping her tongue into Harley's mouth. The moan she got in response sent that familiar electricity down to the pit of her stomach, and then further as Harley continued to reciprocate. Pam reached a tentative hand to Harley's neck and began to trail her palm downward towards her chest-

There were suddenly little feet running down the hallway and a voice screaming "Harley! Pammy! Mommy got pizza!"

They separated just as the door was swinging open, revealing a grinning Zeb already in his pajamas. "Pammy! Do you like olives on your pizza?"

"I—Umm—" Pam was out of breath. _Concentrate, Pamela. Do you like olives on your pizza?_ "Yes, Zeb." She smiled, recovering as best she could. "I do like olives on my pizza."

Harley giggled, her face flushed almost beyond recognition. "We're coming out…of this room…now. We're coming out of this room now."

Zeb heard his sister's bizarre response. Attempted to process it. Gave up, and then ran back into the living room.

"Best tutor ever." Harley whispered, her breath hot against Pam's ear before using her teeth to briefly tug at the lobe and skipping out after Zeb.

 _M-m-maintain decorum, Pamela. Maintain decorum._

 **Bonus question: What is Selina Kyle/Catwoman's alias? (Catwoman (vol. 3) #53)**


	17. Chapter 17

"That's not a real tail." The redhead informed the girl who was wearing it. "You're not a real kitty."

"I know. I'm just playing dress up cuz I wanna get candy." The girl swiped her dark bangs out of her eyes. "Are you a real flower?"

"No." Pamela giggled. "I'm a girl."

The brunette grinned. "Me too. I'm a girl too."

"Yeah." Pamela nodded. "I know other girls too. My mama's a girl."

"So is mine. But she is sick." The girl picked up a crayon and began scribbling on her paper.

Pamela just watched her, tilting her head slightly. She'd never seen a girl with short hair before. "Then who brought you to school?"

"Ms. Kyle." The brunette said, grabbing a red crayon from the selection in front of her. "I live at her house until my real mama gets better."

"Oh." Pam nodded, now understanding the situation. "How come your real mama is sick?"

The other girl shrugged. "I dunno, but she went nigh-night in the kitchen."

Pam giggled. "But beds are for sleeping! Not kitchens!"

The brunette giggled as well. "I know. She was sleepy for a long time."

"Did you say, 'WAKE UP, MAMA!'" Pam wanted to know.

"Yeah." The other girl nodded earnestly. "But she was too sleepy. She didn't want to wake up. So now my name is Selina Kyle."

"I'm Pamela Isley!" The redhead grinned.

"OK. We're friends now, OK?" Selina barely looked up from her paper.

"Yeah." Pam agreed with a nod. "We're best friends, OK?"

"Yeah." Selina nodded too. "I drew this for you." She picked up her paper and shoved it into the other girl's chest. "That's you." She pointed to the stick-figure with red hair. "And that's me." She indicated the figure with spiky black hair.

Pamela grinned. "My hair is so pretty."

"Yeah." Selina agreed once more, patting the red curls where they spilled out of her sunflower hat. "And you are my best friend."

"OK."

/

"FUCK YEAH, that's my best friend!" Selina returned the shocked stares of her classmates' parents by sneering: "Do you know who I am?" Pam fixed Selina with a look from the court, where she had just returned a serve with cutting precision. On anyone else, that look would have read _Dude, be cool_ – on Pamela Isley, it translated more as _Selina, please maintain some semblance of decorum_ , but the intent was the same.

Bruce chuckled beside Selina, throwing a handful of trail mix in his mouth as he settled comfortably back in the grass. "And henceforth, that would forever be known as the day Selina Kyle introduced the term 'fuck yeah' to the world of elite prep school tennis matches."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Bruce," Selina said, her tone cloyingly sweet as he grinned at her through a mouthful of peanuts and chocolate chips.

"She's really good, isn't she?" said Mera, her red hair catching the light as she leaned around her girlfriend Diana to address Selina.

"Well, it's not fucking dolphin ball, _Merida_ , but we do what we can around here," Selina said.

Diana reached for Mera's hand and rolled her eyes slightly. "Water polo is the preferred term, Selina."

Selina waved her off impatiently as they turned their attention back to the court. The four of them watched as Pam tossed the ball up, then delivered it to her opponent's side of the net with laserlike accuracy.

"Ha! Try returning _that_ , Cloverfield!" Selina yelled over the polite claps from the crowd as Pam's opponent just barely missed and the ball bounced into the fence behind her.

"Cloverfield? Really? She's not even 6 feet tall, Selina," Diana said, stealing the bag of trail mix from Bruce and holding it out for Mera to take some.

Selina tilted her head and looked at the other girl sweetly. "But, my dear princess Di, she's so hairy that I felt 'Sasquatch' would be just a bit too _apropos_. Would you prefer to be the giver of shit for the day?" she offered graciously.

"I'll pass," said Diana, watching Pam line up her next return shot. The redhead bounced a little on the balls of her feet, swung her racquet low in a graceful motion –

. . . and then something seemed to catch her eye, because her feet stuttered and her return shot went wild, bouncing up onto the grassy knoll where most of the spectators were gathered.

"What the hell, Isley?! Look alive!" Selina shouted. "What are you even – oh." Her gaze had followed Pam's, and now she saw a small blonde figure hovering by a tree near the edge of the hill. "Jesus Christ," she muttered.

"Oh, there's Harley!" Mera said, starting to wave her over.

But Selina was already yelling, "Hey! Dug!"

Bruce furrowed his brow. "From _Up_?"

Selina ignored him. "Yeah, Crotch Rocket, I'm talking to you! Get the fuck over here!" and Harley was ducking her head, moving quickly through the crowd towards their little group as if she were trying not to be seen.

"Sit," said Selina, pointing at the spot of ground next to her. Harley paused, already in mid-step toward sitting by Diana and Mera – and then, against her better judgment, reversed course and sat down gingerly next to Selina.

Harley said, "Sorry I'm late, bus was running late." Then she risked a glance down at the court. There was a brief lull in the action while both girls took a quick water break, and even from here she was entirely captivated by Pam in full tennis regalia, her red waves tamed into a high ponytail that brushed her back as she took a drink, her elegant throat rippling as she gulped water down hastily, her eyes flicking over to the little crowd on the hill . . .

"If your face gets any redder we'll have to recommend you for the Elmo puppet job." Selina said, her gaze unreadable as she watched Harley intently. "I'm sure having a grown man's hand shoved up your ass everyday could be trying…But think of the children, Crotch Rocket."

"Oh, lay off, Selina," Bruce said amiably. "Harley – you want some trail mix?" He sat up and handed the bag over to Harley, who nodded in thanks and took a handful automatically.

"Hey Harley," said Mera, leaning back so she and Harley could talk from opposite ends of the line, "Diana told me that we're going–" here, she caught Diana's small but emphatic head shake and stopped whatever she was going to say, instead trailing off lamely with, "to cheer Pam on. At, um, tennis game." Diana bit her lower lip in amusement and looked at Mera like _Really?_

"Good plan!" Selina's said, patronizingly. "How about we get back to that?" Her voice lacked a bit of its usual bite, Harley thought maybe because she was putting so much of her energy into trying to read Mera's mind in that moment.

The two athletes were in position now. It was Pam's serve. She tossed the ball up, like Harley was sure she'd done a million times before – but then her eyes flicked to the side for just a second, and she completely whiffed the serve.

"Unacceptable," Selina muttered beside Harley.

Pam managed to hold it together, her opponent narrowing the significant gap but ultimately not enough to actually beat her.

Selina resumed her aggressive cheering of Pam and belittling of her opponent. She didn't say another word to Harley until the match was over and the athletes were collecting their gear.

"Well, Crotchy, shouldn't you get a move on? I doubt the bus is going to wait for you just because you're a frequent flyer."

"Selina," Bruce and Diana said in unison.

"The next bus isn't for an hour," Harley said, looking down at the grass, twisting a piece in her hands.

"We can give you a ride," said Mera, resting her chin on Diana's shoulder and tucking her hand in the crook of Diana's arm.

Selina sighed. "I'm just giving her shit. There's room in the 'Vette for Elmo and whatever she'd got shoved up her ass."

"No," said a voice above them. They all looked up, shielding their eyes against the late afternoon sun (except Selina, whose sunglasses provided ample protection). "I've got her," Pam said. She and Harley let themselves have one moment to smile shyly at each other, and then Selina jumped to her feet.

"Pammy!" she exclaimed, sliding her arms around Pam's hips and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth that lingered just a second too long, drawing stares from the few spectators still on the hillside. Pam stood frozen, her racquet dangling at her side. "You were splendid out there," Selina continued. "Well, until –" she threw a glance back at Harley as she detached from Pam – "anyway, you won. Let's go celebrate at my house. You can come by after you're finished running errands."

"I'm glad you came," Pam was flushed, and not just from the tennis match. "But I have to work on something for school." She smiled winningly at Bruce, Diana and Mera and said, "Thank you all for being here." The group stood up, and each said their congratulations. Diana fist-bumped Bruce, and then she and Mera headed up the hill (Mera winked at Harley as they left, which did not go unnoticed by Selina).

"You were great out there, really," Bruce said, grinning at his old friend. Then he turned to Selina. "Well, babe, shall we go celebrate Pam's win at your house?"

Selina Kyle chose her battles. With her head held high and one final muttered "Crotch Rocket," she walked away with Bruce – and Pam and Harley were alone.

/

"FUCK YEAH! That's my best friend!"

Pamela grinned despite herself. Selina was a terrible fan- Rude, loud, insistent- an absolute nuisance. Pamela found it was best to just be grateful she was cheering for her and not the other girl. Even so, Pam turned around to give her friend a look instructing her to remember the setting and adjust her behavior accordingly.

The redhead focused back on the task at hand. Sucking in a deep breath, she tossed the ball, and a second later it was rocketing past—

"Ha! Try returning _that_ , Cloverfield!"

Cloverfield. Who swung after the ball had already passed her by.

Pamela's opponent was inferior by all measurable standards. In fact, she wasn't even ranked. This was more an exhibition match than anything- an extra practice. But Pamela didn't need an opponent, not really, anyway. She was competing against herself. Her goal was to win every set this season, and her goal for this particular match was to hold "Cloverfield" scoreless. So far, that didn't seem to be a tall order.

…Until Harley showed up.

Pam completely torpedoed her shot, and the embarrassment almost hurt it felt so hot in her cheeks. She was flustered. She never felt flustered, not on the tennis court, anyway. Suddenly she was reminded of that first day of practice after meeting Harley, how she'd been so disgracefully unfocused that she hadn't even seen the ball coming. _Control yourself, Pamela. Control._

She was able to maintain enough focus to soundly win the match, but she'd fallen short of her goal. She hadn't kept her opponent scoreless. When the match was over, Pam shook her opponent's hand, but offered no verbal congratulations for the girl's loss. When she was told: "Good match," Pamela simply nodded and headed to her bench.

She turned her back to the spectators and swung her racquet into the ground. _Unacceptable_. And again. her frustration seeming to warp the racquet's metal exterior more than the blunt force trauma. Then she straightened up, adjusted her pony-tail, and calmly filed the mangled racquet into her bag, taking out her spare one to carry over to the sidelines.

Pam was used to public displays of a lot of things with Selina, but a public display of affection felt somewhat new. A kiss, certainly, although Selina hadn't been a hugger either for some time. Pamela would have enjoyed it more had Harley not looked so uncomfortable. So Pam declined Selina's offer to celebrate at her house. And that action proved surprisingly difficult. Pam couldn't remember the last time she hadn't celebrated her win with Selina. But she had Harley now, and where Selina was just her friend, Harley was more than that. And anyway, Pam doubted very much that Selina would really care by the end of the night. Bruce would go over and they'd enjoy themselves just fine without her. It wasn't as if Pamela was known as the life of the party.

When Selina left, though, there was something in her eyes. They looked almost like Harley's for a moment before her expression morphed back to its usual haughty indifference.

Pam thanked Diana and Mera, and then Bruce. Just like Selina, Bruce was always there. Pam consistently returned the favor, of course, attending Football games and Gymnastics meets…Pam was a far more silent observer than Selina, but she always offered the brunette a reassuring nod before she started her routine. Now Pam supposed she would be there for Harley as well. She hoped she wouldn't distract Harley as severely as the blonde did her.

Then Selina and the others were gone and it was only Harley left on the grassy hillside. The blonde looked at her shyly.

"I like your uniform."

Pam glanced down at the green and black ensemble. "Why?" She knew why.

Harley shrugged, her teeth biting softly into her lower lip. "I like the skirt."

"Oh?" Pam feigned ignorance.

"Mhm." Harley nodded, moving closer, close enough to whisper. She brought her hands up to Pamela's collar. "And I like…this, too." She undid the top button.

"Is that so?" Pamela giggled.

"Good match." A voice behind them complimented, causing Pam to whirl around in a panic.

"I didn't know you were so talented." Professor Woodrue grinned at them.

Pamela wasn't sure who she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't her Biology professor. "Thank you." Was all she could offer in return.

"And Harley." The man's gaze fell to the blonde next. "Nice of you to cheer on your tutor."

Harley's hand wrapped around Pam's forearm. "I like tennis." Was her explanation. "We'll see you in class, Professor." She began dragging Pam towards the parking lot.

"Well that was rude." The redhead chastised her.

"No, Pam. It really wasn't." They walked a few steps in silence before Harley said: "Did you want to go with Selina?"

The redhead was surprised by the question. "No—I—you're here. I'm glad you came."

"I don't think Selina was." Harley mumbled.

Pam didn't quite know how to respond. There seemed to be a sense of jealousy in Harley's tone and Pam was clueless as to how to combat it. "I love Selina." _That was a terrible choice, Pamela. Honestly._

By Harley's expression, Pam determined she agreed- it was a terrible choice. Those words meant something different now "No! Not like with you."

Harley's eyes widened. "You love me?"

"No!" _This exchange is awful_. "I just mean, I don't—I wouldn't. Ugh." Pam pulled her around the corner of the tennis locker room and pushed her up against the wall, not waiting even a moment this time before running her tongue across Harley's lower lip and then plunging deeper.

Harley squeaked, but the sound was muffled. Despite the surprise, she responded quickly, grabbing Pam by the hips and pulling her flush against her.

Pam wanted to be lost in the sensation of the moment, but she knew where she was, and it was not the place for this. She reluctantly broke the kiss, but kept her body pressed against Harley's as the blonde had yet to release her hold on her hips.

"I love Selina and Bruce because they're my friends. But I don't want a friend right now." Pam told her, their lips barely an inch apart. "I want you."

Harley blushed nervously under the intensity of Pamela's gaze, and it was only then the redhead realized what she'd said. "I didn't mean…"

"I get it. They're your friends." Harley rescued her. "Selina just…scares me."

Pam pecked her on the lips before releasing her from the wall. "Selina scares most people."

/

"Are these your flowers?" The dark-haired boy asked, a crooked grin on his face.

"Yeah." Pamela smiled. "They are my babies."

"They're pretty." The boy said, his cheeks reddening. "You're pretty." He corrected.

"I know that." The redhead told him, patting the soil lovingly with her hands. "My name is Pamela. What's your name?"

"Bruce." He said, before being roughly shoved forward and landing on his face in Pamela's flower patch.

The culprit cackled evilly behind them, his dark eyes shining with glee.

Tears sprang immediately to Pamela's eyes as Bruce rolled off the flowers quick as he could, his face a picture of horror as he looked at the damage he'd caused. "That wasn't nice, J!" Pamela cried.

The culprit just laughed louder, coming over to stomp on the flowers himself now.

Pamela was bawling at this point, absolutely heartbroken at the carnage playing out before her. "KITTY!" She sobbed. "J broke my flowers!"

Bruce raised his eyes and watched as a brunette across the yard stopped her game of tag and came barreling over without a moment's hesitation. Without first questioning the situation, Selina punched J full force in the face. He crumpled to the ground and she came to stand over him. "Why did you hurt Pammy's flowers?" She demanded.

"Because they're stupid!" J shot back, wiping the blood that was now spilling like a faucet from his nose.

"They are not stupid!" Pam argued through her sobs.

"Yeah!" Bruce seconded. "You are mean. Go away."

Selina raised her fist again to show they meant business, and J scrambled away, crying for a teacher.

"He hurt my flowers." Pamela sniffed, the tears slowing, but her breathing still shallow.

Selina shook her head and knelt down beside her, pulling the redhead into a sudden and slightly uncomfortable hug. "Don't cry, Pammy. We can make them better."

Bruce had a bright idea: "We need water to water them!"

"Boys are mean." Pamela wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"Nuh uh!" Bruce argued. "I am not mean!"

Selina regarded him critically, looking him up and down as Bruce's cheeks once again blushed crimson. "Prove it!"

"OK!" Bruce said with a new determination. "I'll get water to make the flowers better."

Selina squinted at him, evidently deciding if this act of valor would be enough. "Yeah, OK. But you have to run cuz Pammy's sad."

Bruce was gone before Selina even finished her sentence, running back to the schoolhouse in search of water.


	18. Chapter 18

**AmberZ10: General announcement-**

 **The last chapter was posted before areyoukiddingmedude had a chance to proofread it, so any and all typos were mine and mine alone. This announcement does not come at her urging, but rather the guilt of my own conscience. Thank you. As you were.**

"Hey, beautiful!" Harley grinned from the front steps of her apartment building as Pam pulled into the parking lot in the red Tesla and cut the engine.

"Hey yourself," Pam said. It took Harley by surprise when she got out of the car – if they didn't leave right then, they'd be late meeting Diana and Mera, and she knew her Pam loved to be punctual.

So why – _oh_. Harley barely had time to register the hungry look in Pam's eyes before the redhead was grabbing her by one hand, pulling her hard so that she stumbled into Pam's waiting arms. "Mmm," Harley moaned as she felt Pam's tongue sliding against hers, her hands as always finding their way into Pam's gorgeous hair and pulling her close.

Finally, Pam pulled back a tiny bit. Both girls were breathing heavily, completely wrapped up in each other.

So it took them by surprise when a small projectile hit the ground near them, then bounced into the bushes.

"Henry!" hissed Harry, and now Harley looked up to see three little faces pressed into the space of the open window above them.

"Ohmygoshdid you see how high it bounced?" said Henry, just as breathless as Harley and Pam had been a moment ago.

"Did you see the bouncy ball, Harley?" Zeb called down, louder than necessary. "It went so high!" He turned to his brothers and informed them, "Harley didn't see it bounce cuz she was kissing Pam."

"Yeah," said Henry, and Harley could see his smirk from way up there, "I guess she's not dating that Alec dude, huh?" All three boys dissolved into laughter, although Harley thought Zeb's was probably more in solidarity than actual understanding.

She looked at Pam then, expecting to see a stricken look in those emerald eyes, already trying to think of soothing words – _the Pam Whisperer_ , she giggled to herself. But Pam just quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. "Guess your brothers know, then," she said, and pulled Harley in for another kiss, just as hot as the first.

"It's the next left up here," Harley said a few minutes later, and Pam pulled into the parking lot where they were meeting for their double date.

Pam reached over the seat and retrieved a fairly large tan bag. "What's that?" Harley asked as they climbed out of the red convertible.

"Oh, I meant to ask where yours was," Pam said, "but I got . . . distracted."

"Pam," Harley said, biting her lip now to contain her laughter, "do you have your own equipment?"

"Is that not standard practice?" Pam asked, so sincerely that Harley's laughter bubbled over.

"God, you're adorable," Harley said, taking her hand and standing on tiptoes to plant a peck on Pam's smooth cheek. "Come on, let's go inside. They're probably here already."

When they got inside, Diana and Mera were standing just inside the door and they all exchanged quick hugs and hellos. Harley was amazed at how the two of them looked entirely at ease, despite the fact that Diana's flawlessly casual outfit probably cost more than the owner's monthly salary and Mera's IQ was probably higher than all of theirs combined (besides Pam, of course).

She was amused that Pam, in contrast, looked flawless but decidedly _not_ at ease.

"All right, ladies!" Harley said, clapping her hands in excitement. "Let's bowl!"

/

"You did a really good job," Harley finished her second lap around the parking lot, her movements with the steering wheel and accelerator more fluid now.

"No I didn't." Pamela said, quietly. "You can go a little faster."

Harley accepted the challenge, raising her speed to a consistent 30 MPH. "You won the match."

"That's not the point." Pam's tone was even. She was frustrated with herself- beyond frustrated. But she feared Harley would perceive Pam as being upset at her if she were any more animated. "I fell short of my own standard."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself." Harley told her as she upped her speed to 35.

Pam cleared her throat. "That is your opinion, and you are entitled to it. I was distracted. I allowed the outside world to permeate my psyche, which should have been focused on the task at hand."

"Why were you—"

"Harley, would you like to go on a date with me?" Pamela interrupted, her words spilling out suddenly.

The blonde slowed the car down, coming to a stop near the central lamp-post of the abandoned ACE Chemicals lot. "What?"

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" Pam repeated, firmer this time.

"Umm, y—"

"Because Diana and Mera have invited us on a double date." Pam informed her. "Diana Prince." She amended.

Harley laughed. "Thanks for the clarification."

"So would you like to go?" Pamela asked again, the hope in her voice unmistakable. "Mera is leaving on Friday, so I'm afraid it's tomorrow or not at all."

"Geez, Pam. Quit tryin ta sell me." Harley giggled as she leaned over and kissed her. "Has anyone ever said no to a date with you before?"

Technically, Pamela had never asked anyone out on a date before, but if this was Harley saying yes… "No, they haven't."

"Then I'm gonna have ta side with the majority." Harley grinned. "Yes, Pamela Lillian Isley, I'll totally go on a date with you."

/

"Hey, Lou!" Harley said to the bearded man behind the desk.

"Harley!" he said, leaning all the way over the counter to give her a hug. "How ya been, kid?"

"Can't complain," said Harley with a grin. "How's Bud?" She'd known Lou and his brother Bud pretty much since she was born – some of her favorite memories after her dad left and her mom was working all the time were bringing the boys to hang out at the bowling alley after school. Bud and Lou always let them play for free if there was a spare lane, and they'd become like uncles to Harley and the boys.

"Doing better since he cleaned up his diet," said Lou. "So who are these lovely ladies?"

"Oh yeah!" said Harley. "Where are my manners?"

"I've always wondered that," said Diana with a wink. "I'm Diana," she said to Lou, shaking his hand (Harley saw his impressed look at her firm handshake).

"Mera. I'm from out of town," Mera said with a little wave.

Harley's eyes flicked over to Pam for a second, and she decided a little risk was worth it. "And this," she said, taking Pam's hand, "is Pam."

Lou's eyes dropped down to their joined hands for a second – and then he smiled, his eyes crinkling. "Ah," he said, "So this is Pam. Thought so." When the girls looked confused, he added, "Harley's mom told me about you. You're just as pretty as she said."

Pam flushed, and Harley sensed that this might be moving a tiny bit fast for her, so she changed the subject. "Hey Lou, can we get four pairs of shoes and a lane?"

"Sure, kid," he said. "Take number 5 – that's your favorite, right?" Harley nodded. "You need the bumpers?" Lou added, his eyes twinkling.

"Dude! I was six years old!" Harley pouted, and Diana and Mera laughed.

"Actually, we only need three pairs of shoes," Pam broke in.

As Lou asked Diana and Mera their shoe sizes (he knew Harley's already and slipped her his best pair of size 6s), Harley squeezed Pam's hand and whispered, "Pamela Isley, do you really own bowling shoes?" Pam nodded. "Do you bowl that often?" Harley said, still trying to process this.

"No. This is my first time," Pam said, looking at her oddly.

"Pam," Harley said, trying so hard not to giggle, "did you _buy bowling shoes_ for this date?"

The redhead's sigh as she headed to lane 5, pulling Harley after her, was her only response.

Mera and Diana were faster getting their shoes on, probably because Harley kept giggling at Pam and Pam kept shooting her looks that were half grin, half death stare. "You want us to grab balls for you?" Mera said. She quickly added, "Diana Prince, grow the fuck up" – the shoulders of the raven-haired girl next to her were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Sure!" Harley said. "Can you get me a pink 12?" She turned to Pam to ask her, and had to actually bite her finger when she saw Pam taking a 13-pound emerald green bowling ball out of her bag.

"What?" Pam said, wide-eyed. "This brand was highly rated for its balance of flare potential and RG radius."

"Just the pink 12, ladies," Harley said, and Mera elbowed a snickering Diana as they walked off. Harley turned back to Pam, leaned in close, and whispered, "You are the biggest nerd. And I've never wanted to kiss you more." Then she straightened up and tied her shoes before Pam could even respond.

It was the most perfect first date Harley had ever been on. (Well, 'first' if you didn't count driving lessons and biology tutoring and stolen kisses at school.)

Lou kept bringing them things – pitchers of soda, pizza – and it made Harley's heart soar every time he brought something over and Pam smiled at her.

Plus, the more time she spent with Diana and Mera, the more she liked both of them. Harley's favorite moment was when Diana got her third strike in a row. Mera muttered something about 'perfect fucking Amazons' as Diana walked back to her seat without even looking back at the lane, and Diana calmly leaned over and shut her up with a kiss that went on until Mera's face was as red as her hair.

Harley caught Pam's eye and thought she could read the same complicated mix of emotions there that she was feeling: longing, a little envy, hope . . .

But then again, Pam was probably just focused on her bowling game.

Which was absolutely dismal.

It struck Harley that the best things about Pam were also the things that made her struggle sometimes. The intellectual curiosity that let her have passionate conversations with Mera about things like biodiversity (Diana rolled her eyes, but Harley could tell she found it as hot as Harley did) didn't translate as well to things like . . . bowling.

Every time Pam went up to bowl, Harley heard her whispering things to herself like "Keep your wrist strong, Pam. The ball should appear like a natural extension of your arm." And then she'd follow her own advice to the letter, stiff-arming the ball awkwardly or looking obsessively at the arrows and forgetting that there were actual pins to hit.

It was spectacular.

In the end, Harley won. Diana was a close second, Mera was a distant third, and Pam . . . Pam was silently fuming when they changed their shoes and headed out (Lou gave Harley another big hug on the way out and told the other girls how great it was to meet them).

She was Pamela Lillian Isley, though, and Harley marveled at her composure as she smiled at Mera and Diana and told them what a lovely time she'd had. Diana flashed Harley a secret thumbs up as the two couples went to their separate cars, and Harley winked back at her.

They got in the car, some kind of tension stretched between them. Harley stayed quiet, and Pam did too, so she thought Pam was probably feeling it too.

When they'd gone a couple of blocks, Harley told Pam to take a right. Pam looked at her, questioning, but she made the turn. After Harley directed her through a couple more turns, Pam said quietly, "This isn't the way to your house, Harley."

"No, Pamela, it is not," Harley said, and that was the last they spoke until Pamela brought the car to a stop in the lot adjacent to a small, abandoned park.

Pam turned off the car. She turned slightly toward Harley and only had time to say, "So, why are we–" before Harley was kissing her hungrily, frantically, more urgently than they'd ever kissed before. She lightly licked into Pam's mouth and explored it tentatively with her tongue, making the redhead moan low in her throat. Harley ran her fingers over Pam's face, skimmed them down her athletic shoulders and then slipped her hands around her waist, easily sneaking them under the hem of her shirt so she could feel warm, soft skin against her throbbing fingertips.

Then Harley pulled back, her breathing ragged. "Sorry," she whispered, then cleared her throat. "It's just that – you were so intense tonight – and, I liked it – I mean not in a weird way, but –"

"Mmm, you liked that?" Pam murmured, and Harley gulped at the low timbre of her voice, the way her words seemed to shiver right into Harley's bones. She nodded, probably a little frantically – _but who could blame me when Pamela Isley is talking to me like that?_ she thought.

"Well," said Pam, crossing the center console to settle herself fluidly in Harley's lap (eliciting a groan from the blonde), "maybe I'm still feeling a little . . . intense."

 _Yep_ , thought Harley as Pam leaned down to claim her, _most perfect first date ever._


	19. Chapter 19

_She is literally gonna kill me_ , was all Harley could think.

Somehow, they'd moved into the back seat of the Tesla convertible – _the car she bought for me, the car she's teaching me how to drive_ – and Harley was completely surrounded by Pam's red waves falling around both of them, breathing in a ridiculous (but strangely delicious) mix of expensive lotion and bowling alley pizza, electrified by her body's response to the vision that was Pamela Isley currently moving on top of her.

Harley was used to being the instigator, the spark – but god, it was all she could do to keep up with this girl. Pam was relentlessly exploring Harley's mouth with her lips and tongue, cupping the back of her neck with one hand while she trailed the other over Harley's arm, her hip, her side, setting her on fire with every kiss, every touch.

Her desire to make Pam feel what she was feeling overrode pretty much every other thought in Harley's mind, and she slipped one hand under the redhead's shirt, her breath catching when her fingertips grazed Pam's abs. _Guess all those years of tennis lessons paid off_ , she thought.

"Mmm, those years of gymnastics weren't so bad either," Pam murmured against her mouth, now mirroring Harley's motion with her own fingers.

"Shit! Did I say that out loud?" Harley giggled, and she felt Pam's answering snicker against the underside of her jaw, followed by a hot tongue licking right where Harley's pulse must be visibly throbbing by now. "Pam!" Harley breathed, jumping a little so that the hand that was under Pam's shirt jerked upward, meeting smooth satin.

Both girls stilled then, trapped together in the moment. Pam pulled back just enough to look Harley in the eye – and then she arched into her touch, pressing herself into Harley's hand so _slowly_ , and her eyes fluttered closed. "Harley," she whispered.

And that broken whisper took Harley apart, just – dismantled her. She curled her thumb up and over the cup of Pam's bra, sliding it back and forth just inside, watching Pam's eyes fly open as she gasped.

Then those eyes darkened, looking into Harley's with unmistakable intent, and the two girls moved as one. Harley surged up to capture Pam's lips once more, Pam's hand now gripping the back of her neck even more tightly, and they both let out a low moan when their tongues slid against each other, Harley's thumb continuing its lazy strokes back and forth.

 _God, she's flawless_ , Harley thought as Pam shifted above her, and suddenly like magic she felt a leg slide between her own. The blonde bent her own knee upward experimentally and grinned at the resulting hiss of surprise and pleasure. And then Pam's mouth was back on her neck, and she was rocking against her slowly but with intent, and that wiped the smug grin right off Harley's face.

Harley's breath was coming faster now, and she slid a hand down to cup Pam's rear through her tight jeans, rubbing gentle circles on it. Pam panted hotly against Harley's neck, still rocking her hips rhythmically into her. "Harley," she said in a husky voice, dragging her eyes up to look into the other girl's, "if we don't slow down, I'm going to –"

"I know, me too," said Harley, grinning despite herself. She blew a breath towards her forehead, trying and failing to dislodge a piece of hair that was sticking there. Pam smiled down at her, stopping the motion of her hips with some effort as she swept the hair out of Harley's face for her. "Um," Harley said, "have you – I mean, with Selina –"

"Wow, this is awkward," Pam said, still smiling but ducking her head down to bury her face in Harley's neck. She mumbled, "We did some stuff. But she never wanted to – and then, there's some stuff that I didn't want her to –"

"So, she made you . . . ya know, but only over the clothes stuff?" Harley summarized awkwardly, scrunching her nose up in embarrassment even though Pam couldn't see her. The redhead just nodded quickly against her neck.

Harley sighed. "Then I'm glad we stopped."

Pam's head snapped back up, and she started to sit back, fixing her hair. "Wait, where are you going?" said Harley, honestly confused as her hands slid away from Pam's body.

"You said you were glad we stopped," Pam said a little frostily. "So I'm stopping."

"Oh," said Harley, comprehension dawning. "Wait, please. Come back down here," and she pulled Pam gently down by the hand until she was nestled into Harley's neck again. Harley absently stroked her hair and said, rather quickly, "What I meant was, I'm glad we stopped because _our_ first time will also be _your_ first time, and our first time was about ta last like 2 minutes, and I want it to be really awesome and special for you and not just a hookup in the back of a car. I want you to like…remember it, you know?"

Pam took a minute to digest all of that. Then she nuzzled her nose against Harley's jaw, very deliberately, and said, "I think we should probably schedule our next tutoring session. My parents are attending a gala tomorrow evening, so you're welcome to come over to my house if you'd like."

Harley sighed, but tried to rally. "Sure, yeah, bio tutoring is good too –"

And then Pam was shutting her up with a quick (but wet and awesome) kiss. She said, slowly and with great emphasis, "Um, Harley? My parents will be _gone_ tomorrow night if you want to _come over_ . . ."

Harley thought that if someone had slapped her on the back just then, one or both of her eyes would have popped right out, they were bugging so far out of her skull. "Oh! Yes! Tutoring! Ah. Let's – that's cool. I'll just – um, can you get me?"

"We'll figure it out," laughed Pam, and then she was kissing her again, gently, until Harley relaxed.

 _Yep, she's gonna kill me, all right_ , Harley thought, looking up at her. _And I can't think of a better way ta go._

/

Pamela kissed Harley goodnight even if she didn't want her to go just yet. The kiss couldn't communicate everything she wanted to, but she made sure it meant something. Made sure it promised more to come. When they separated, Harley bit her lip and trailed her hand softly down Pamela's cheek. It was all the redhead could do not to pull her into the back seat again.

"Goodnight." Pamela said with a shy smile.

Harley unbuckled her seatbelt with what looked like some reluctance. "I'll see you tomorrow? You'll call me? Or I guess you could text me. Email would work too, but..."

"A handwritten letter would be a bit strange?" Pamela chuckled.

Harley was grinning too, a pink blush in her cheeks. "Your house, tomorrow. You'll call me."

"You get a second date. Congratulations." Pam leaned forward and kissed her again, as briefly as she could manage.

The blonde smirked as she reached for the handle, but the door was barely open when Pamela stopped her once more.

"Tonight was memorable, Harley." She said, her voice quiet, but tone matter-of-fact.

Harley turned around. "What?"

"You said you wanted my first time—our first time, to be memorable." Pam reminded her. "I'll remember tonight even if it wasn't that." The redhead watched as a blush once again spread in Harley's cheeks. She smiled her wide, happy smile and shut the Tesla's door, glancing one more time over her shoulder before nearly skipping up the stairs to her family's apartment.

Pamela drove probably a bit faster than she should have, but she felt an excitement that was difficult to describe. Driving fast in a convertible was as close as she could get to the physical embodiment of the feeling. She was warm, and tingly, and…exhilarated.

Pam parked the car in the garage and jogged up to the house, noticing that there were lights on in the living room. The nearer she came to the house, the slower her pace. By the time she got to the porch she was taking steps half her normal stride. "You're being ridiculous, Pamela." She mumbled to herself, attempting to smooth down her hair one last time. But the door opened from the inside, and her mother was suddenly looming in the doorway.

"Pamela. It's after 10." Her mother informed her with a cadence so icy Pamela literally shivered.

"It is, yes." Pam said, straightening up even though she wanted to cower. "May I come in?"

"You can check your wit at the door, thank you." Mrs. Isley said, turning into the house and simply leaving the door open for her daughter.

Pamela followed, closing it behind her, but hesitating before locking it. "Is Father coming home?"

"No." Mrs. Isley informed her from where she now sat in the arm chair just inside the living room.

Pam nodded in understanding and locked the door, then slipped her shoes off and went to join her mother in the living room. "Will he be accompanying you to the gala tomorrow evening?" She asked once she'd returned to her mother's line of sight.

"Yes." Her answer was, again, brief.

Pamela shifted awkwardly for a moment in the silence before venturing, "Did you have a good day?"

Mrs. Isley regarded her critically. "My day was adequate. But if you must know, our condensing units need to be upgraded and my secretary is an imbecile."

Pam cleared her throat, trying not to sound surprised her mother had actually responded with real information concerning her job. "Aren't those concerns you could raise with Father?"

"Go running to my husband every time I encounter a bit of trouble?" Mrs. Isley scoffed. "Do you truly think so little of me?"

"No, it's just—"

"Where were you?"

Pamela should have seen the subject change coming. "I was with Diana. We have an assignment for French class due Tuesday and were attempting to get a head start."

Mrs. Isley arched an eyebrow. "Diana Prince?"

"Yes." Pamela nodded, hoping her mother wouldn't sense the significant omission.

"I don't want you conversing with that girl any longer." Mrs. Isley told her, returning to her usually icy delivery. "She's a negative influence on you. Running around with that…girl. She's become an embarrassment to her family."

Pamela took a moment to recall her brief meetings with the Prince family. Diana's mother was stern, but loving. She spoke glowingly of Diana even when her daughter was in her presence. Her father was charming, with a twinkle in his eye that Diana had clearly inherited. Diana met Mera on their family vacation. Pamela couldn't imagine the Princes were all that ashamed… "Yes, Mother."

"You simply don't need the distraction. Not this year." Mrs. Isley continued.

Pamela- again- nodded. "Of course, Mother." A silence descended once more, and- again- it was Pamela who disrupted it. "I won my tennis match yesterday."

"Weren't you expected to?" Mrs. Isley asked.

"Yes." Pamela told her.

An emotionless smile crept onto her mother's lips. "Then that's not exactly noteworthy, is it?"


	20. Chapter 20

"Selina Kyle, you magnificent bastard!"

The brunette jumped back from her locker, too startled to even attempt to play it cool. "What in the name of Molly Shannon is the matter with you?"

The redhead smirked as she arched an eyebrow. "What?"

Selina rolled her eyes. "Molly Shannon was in _Superstar_ , Jesus Christ Superstar, Jesus Christ, Jesus is the son of God, God- therefore Molly Shannon is God and my question is, 'what, in the name of God, is the matter with you?'"

Pam opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again, hoping her expression didn't look as dumb as it felt. "Selina, that's insane."

"Whatever you say." The brunette shut her locker. "You better not be this happy over your fucking biology test. Because that would officially drive me insane."

"You know, Selina…" Pamela began, wistfully. "The wonderful thing about our being autonomous homo sapiens is that my being thrilled about a biology assignment is my prerogative and has no bearing on your health, either physical or mental."

Selina narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Are you drunk?"

"No!" Pamela fearfully glanced around the hallway, making sure no one had heard Selina's question.

"OK…" Selina started towards Gordon's class. "Because your obnoxious vocabulary is about the only thing in character for you right now."

"I'm not drunk." Pam mumbled as she followed behind her.

Selina shrugged, although Pam wasn't sure if it was in reference to their conversation or if she was just adjusting her backpack. "Bruce and I had a good time on Wednesday, by the way. We played that game you hate where Bruce puts on the suit of armor and I hit him with a baseball bat."

"Right…" Pam slid in to her seat. "Sounds like I definitely missed out."

"On what?" Bruce, who was already sitting in his seat, inquired. "Oh, wack-a-knight?"

"Bruce, darling, we decided on 'wack-a-douche', remember?" Selina sat down behind Pam.

"Language, Ms. Kyle." Professor Gordon spoke up from behind her desk.

Selina peeked around Pam's shoulder. "It's a feminine hygiene product, Professor. Will you be outlawing the word 'tampon' next?"

Pamela was sure the remainder of this edition of the now infamous Selina vs. Professor Gordon feud would have been interesting, but that was the moment Harley walked in, and to be honest, Pamela blocked everything else out.

Harley flashed Pam a knowing smirk as she sat down beside her. Pamela knew she couldn't touch her, knew she shouldn't even be looking at her…but God—or, Molly Shannon—did she want to kiss her. Thankfully the bell came not long after, knocking Pamela out of her trance.

"All right…" Professor Gordon rolled out from behind her desk. "Today we will be continuing our exploration of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," but first, I'd like to speak to you a bit about the end game for this class."

Pamela hoped whatever it was meant more analyzing and less actual writing. She was barely maintaining an embarrassing 94% in this class.

"Although we will look at multiple themes, styles and genres of literature in this class, the overarching theme for this year will be an emotion. Some say, the most powerful emotion of all. Anyone have a guess?"

"Indigestion?" Selina guessed.

Professor Gordon ignored her. "Love. Every great author has discussed love in one form or another. You will find mention of it in each and every piece we read this year. Now you don't have to do anything with this information immediately, but as we make our way through the year, I want you to keep it in the back of your mind. We can learn a lot about the different expressions of love, both in literature and in our daily lives."

Pamela felt Harley's eyes on her, and the gesture once again left a hot trail on her skin. She swallowed and glanced at the clock, willing it- maybe for the first time in her life- to speed her through the school day.

"Oh, Bruce." Pamela stopped him after the bell ending first period. "I brought this for you." From her bag she produced a banana and a protein bar. "I was going to get you one of those bagels you like but I didn't want my bag to smell like onions. Or cream cheese. Or bagel, for that matter."

Bruce grinned as he took the food from her. "Thanks, Pam."

Selina smirked and shook her head. "You know, Isley, if you're looking to move in on my territory…"

"Shucks, I've been foiled." Pamela chuckled. "You're right, Selina, it's been me and Bruce all along."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," Bruce's tone was somber, mock-apologetic. "But Pamela and I are running away together. We'll live in the rainforest and spend our days breeding plants…and each other."

"That's the most repulsive sentence that's ever been spoken." Selina laughed. "And until you take her picture out of your bedroom, Bruce, Pammy here will remain on my watchlist."

"It's a picture of all three of us!" Bruce defended himself. "You make me sound like a creep."

"Well, you're definitely a creep, Bruce." Pam smirked, but realized she'd lost track of Harley during their conversation. The blonde had already exited the classroom. She stood up quickly. "I have to go. I'll see you at lunch," she told her friends before starting out of the room. She caught a glimpse of Harley in the sea of uniformed students, her pigtails making her stand out in a crowd. The redhead followed after her, catching up just outside of Woodrue's classroom.

"Hey." Pamela stopped her.

"Hey." Harley said, leaning against the wall a few feet from the door.

Pam glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was properly shielded before reaching out and taking Harley's hand, leaning in slightly to whisper: "I'll have Alec pick you up at 6, all right?"

The blonde looked down at their joined hands with worry in her eyes as the sea of students passed around them, but when none seemed to notice, she allowed herself a smile. "I can't wait. ...you know, for...tutoring."

"Yes, of course." Pamela grinned. "It's important for your performance in biology...tutoring is, I mean."

Harley giggled. "Any words of encouragement before I go in there and fail this test?"

"Well..." Pam sighed. "A lackluster performance by you would mean I'm not a very good teacher."

"But you are," Harley assured her.

"OK..." Pam resisted the very strong urge to disregard their surroundings and just kiss her, instead settling for squeezing her hand a bit tighter. "Now go prove it."

/

Harley sat in the back of the Isley family car, her knee jiggling with nervous anticipation. She thought back to that bus ride before their first tutoring session – it was amazing how far they'd come since then. Back then, Pam had seemed like this utterly unattainable Platonic ideal of a human being. But for whatever reason, she had chosen to guide Harleen Quinzel out of the cave and into the light.

Or maybe Harley was the guide in this analogy? Whatever, philosophy was only slightly better than science. In any case – Harley giggled to herself – she and Pam would both be attaining something soon enough.

Being alone with her thoughts always stressed Harley out more than anything, so she leaned up and tapped hesitantly on the glass separating passenger from driver. Alec lowered the glass. "Yes, Ms. Quinzel?" he said, a smile in his voice.

"Oh – um, Harley is good?" Harley said, not really sure of the protocol but falling back on her default of 'talk to everyone like they're your friend.'

"I like the name Harley," Alec said thoughtfully. "It suits you."

"Thanks!" said Harley. "My real name, Harleen, doesn't actually suit anyone, so."

Alec laughed and glanced at her in the rear view mirror. "You know, you have a control for the privacy pane right there on your door."

"Oh!" Harley exclaimed. Then she proceeded to try it out for the next 30 seconds, raising and lowering the pane until Alec said dryly, "I think you have the hang of it."

"So, howdja end up being the Isleys' driver?" said Harley, pulling back from the button a little reluctantly.

Alec flashed her another glance in the mirror. "I used to be on the grounds crew at their country club," he said. "Had dreams of opening my own landscaping business one day, but then my dad got sick and – anyway, I overheard Ms. Isley complaining about how they'd had to fire their driver, so next time Mr. Isley was on the green, I got up the nerve to talk to him. He's a little less –"

"Terrifying?" said Harley with a giggle.

"Your words, not mine," Alec said, smiling. ". . . than Ms. Isley, and he must have seen something in me because he said to come around that weekend and he'd have their tailor measure me for the outfit." He shrugged. "The rest is history, I guess."

"Do ya like it?" Harley said.

Alec shrugged again, making a careful turn onto the Isleys' street. "The pay's decent, I like driving, and they're not bad to work for," he said. "You should hear some of the stories the other drivers tell."

"Hm," said Harley. Then: "Oh! You'll get a kick outa this – you remember the first time you dropped me off at the apartment, the night Pam was . . . indisposed?" Alec nodded. "Well, I have three little brothers – you probably saw at least two of 'em running around when you picked me up just now – and the next day, they thought you were my boyfriend!"

The driver barked out a quick laugh. "They must not have seen the way you look at – sorry, that's none of my business," he trailed off.

"No, that's totally fine," Harley said. "As long as that sentence was going to end with 'Pam' and not, like, Principal Waller or something."

Alec grinned at her in the mirror as he pulled into the driveway of the mansion. "You're good for her, you know," he said quietly. "Ms. Isley – Pam – I mean, not Principal Waller."

Harley blushed and muttered, "Thanks." She bit her bottom lip, looked out the window . . .

And saw Pam standing on the front porch, stunning in a dress and heels. She leaned casually against a column, looking so flawless that Harley actually gasped.

"Have fun tonight," Alec said, and Harley stammered her thanks as she got out of the car on shaky legs.

/

 _You should have said 6:30_ , Pam scolded herself as she hurried from her bathroom to her bedroom. _You allowed your desperation for Harley to override the need for adequate preparation time._

Her personal cleanliness and skincare were on target, and her outfit was laid out neatly on the bed (all of it – Pam blushed a little as her mind wandered ahead), but she'd done next to no staging or ambience.

"Will she want music? Hors d'oeuvres?" Pam muttered to herself, shimmying into her dress and expertly tugging the side zipper up.

She then moved to accessories, sliding in one earring and then the other while simultaneously slipping on the heels she'd bought to accompany this dress (which she'd bought especially for tonight). "Should we watch TV first? Discuss the biology exam? Or current events, perhaps? Curses, where did Mother leave the Wall Street Journal . . ."

When she was completely ready – ensemble, hair, makeup, all of it – Pam allowed herself a glance at the clock.

It was 5:47pm. Harley wouldn't be arriving for another 28 minutes, at least.

Pam went outside to stand on the porch and wait for her.

/

"H-hi," Harley said as she walked (teetered?) over to where Pam stood on the porch.

"Aren't you that girl that poked my house one time?" Pam said, straightening up from the column she was leaning against with a smirk that Harley wanted to lick off her face. _Down, girl!_

"I told you, your house was cruisin' for a bruisin'," said Harley, drawing slowly closer, powerless against the gravitational pull of Pam's emerald eyes. _Hey, gravity, that's science, right? Not biology, though . . . chemistry? Shit, Harley!_

Pam stood on the landing, watching her approach. Her poker face was much better than Harley's, but Harley saw her hands flex a couple of times, the only visible indication of Pam's own nervousness.

When Harley drew even with her, she stepped in so close that Pam's back bumped against the column, their chests brushing together lightly. Their proximity somehow provided Harley courage. She braced one hand next to Pam's ear on the column and leaned in to whisper in the other, her lips brushing the sensitive spot just beyond her jawbone: "Are your parents out?" _Sexy, but also an important question. Nice._

Pam nodded, and the action made her earlobe graze Harley's nose, so of course Harley nuzzled in until Pam gasped. "How – how did you feel your biology test went?" she managed to squeak out, and Harley grinned against her neck as she moved her free hand to Pam's hip, gently pressing her own hips into the other girl's.

"Not bad," Harley murmured, already feeling excited just from this brief contact. "I have a pretty great tutor. In fact –" here, she took a giant step back, leaving Pam breathless against the column – "I think she was just about to invite me upstairs for our next . . . session." _OK, might have been a little forward, but I can't take it back now._

Pam stood up and cleared her throat, then fussed with her appearance, fluffing her hair and patting her dress down. "Right this way," she said, spine straight, gesturing at the front door with one hand while reaching for Harley's with the other.

Harley giggled as Pam strode resolutely into the house, dragging her by the hand. As soon as they were inside, Pam's little burst of resolve seemed to disappear, and she shut the door and kissed Harley hard, desperately, pressing her back against the door. Harley let out a little moan and brought her hands up over Pam's shoulders to the back of her neck, reveling in the feel of her silky hair twining through Harley's fingers as their tongues met in a now-familiar dance. Harley didn't ever think she'd get used to how passionate Pamela could become in an instant.

Their positions were reversed from where they'd been outside, and Pam's hand was now on Harley's hip, sliding easily under the bottom edge of Harley's soft t-shirt and coming to rest just barely under the top hem of her jeans. Pam pulled back from their kiss just a little, both girls breathing hard now, and watched Harley's face as she flexed her fingers, digging them into that hip experimentally. Harley jumped a little and whacked the back of her head on the door.

"Sorry!" hissed Pam, but Harley leaned forward and quieted her with a kiss.

"No, no. I'm sorry." she said wearing a goofy grin. Pam smiled back, and they just stood there for a second, looking at each other like a couple of dorks.

Then Pam's eyes tightened a little, got more intense, and Harley gulped. She'd seen that look before and she knew what it meant. "Pam," Harley croaked, "do you want to go upstairs now?"

"Harley," said Pam, lightly caressing her hip with those slender, slightly calloused fingers, "I have never wanted anything more." Then she wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Sorry. That was –"

Harley shut her up with another quick kiss ( _the secret weapon of the Pam Whisperer!_ ). "That was adorable," she said. " _You're_ adorable." Pam looked like she was about to argue her choice of adjective, so Harley quickly grabbed her by the hand and pulled her away from the wall toward the staircase. "I believe your boudoir is this way, Ms. Isley?"

Harley knew there would be plenty of time for whatever they wanted to do, but if Pam kept giggling like that Harley wasn't confident they'd make it up the stairs. _That couch looks comfortable enough…_

But they did make it to Pam's bedroom, and Harley was glad they did.

As Pam shyly led her into the bedroom, Harley thought about the first time she'd seen it. It still felt like a fairy tale – maybe even more so now, given the context – but the canopy bed, the vanity, the desk . . . they all just faded into the background and the only thing she could see was Pam. Harley had never wanted anyone so bad in her life.

"Um," Harley said, trying her hardest not to babble, swinging their joined hands back and forth as they stood near the foot of the bed, facing each other, "I like your dress."

"Thanks," said Pam. She hopped up and sat at the foot of the bed, then smiled at Harley and crooked a finger at her to come closer. Harley's eyes widened and she obeyed, stepping in close so that her body nudged Pam's knees apart a little.

One of Pam's heels bumped into Harley's calf, and Harley said absently, "I like your shoes, too."

"Mmm," Pam slid her hands around Harley's waist, resting them there lightly.

"They match the dress," Harley observed, twirling a red wave of Pam's hair around one finger, ghosting her thumb over Pam's bottom lip, her smooth jawline. _I get to have this._

"That they do," said Pam, sliding her hands into Harley's back pockets playfully, still smiling as she tugged her even closer. She leaned up until their lips were almost touching and said, barely above a whisper, "I bought them for tonight."

"Just the shoes?" said Harley. _Why is that important to clarify?_ she thought a little frantically, but then Pam was kissing her lightly and she forgot to think anything at all.

"The shoes," Pam said, kissing her again, "the dress –" this time, with just the tiniest flick of her tongue against Harley's lips – "and everything else." Harley moaned into the kiss, parting her lips so Pam's tongue could glide against hers. _Everything else? EVERYTHING ELSE?!_ Harley suddenly felt the urge to rip Pam's dress off and investigate the hint, but it looked pretty expensive and she wasn't sure if-

"Come up here with me," Pam said, tearing her lips away for a second, releasing the iron grip she now had on the front of Harley's shirt as she scooted up higher to make room. "And no shoes on the bed." Harley looked at her funny, but when Pam just quirked an eyebrow at her, she kicked her shoes off, then (with a quick glance at Pam to make sure it was okay) slid the redhead's shoes off, too. _I do like these shoes…_ Then she crawled up, settling herself just over Pam.

"Any other rules I should know about?" Harley murmured, dipping her head to give the other girl a long, slow, wet kiss. Utterly convinced Pamela Isley lying on the bed beneath her was the most beautiful sight in the world.

When Harley pulled back, there was a glint in Pam's eye. "I did tell you about the 'no shirts in bed' rule, didn't I?" Pam said with a grin. Harley shot her a look and sat right up on top of her, straddling her a bit gingerly. Pam put her hands on Harley's hips though, pulling slightly in a move that to Harley meant she could rest more of her weight on her.

"Quite forward, Ms. Isley," Harley said – but then, with a suddenly self-conscious look, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it gently to the side.

"Wow," Pam gulped, looking her age for once, and Harley swore she could feel the heat of Pam's gaze on her bra (black with little red diamonds, her favorite).

"Good wow?" said Harley quietly, and Pam looked up at her face now, could probably see the vulnerability there. She skimmed her hands lightly up Harley's sides, trailing the backs of them over her ribs and the blonde shivered at her touch.

As Pam's hands continued moving up, stroking gently just below Harley's bra, Pam whispered, "More like a 'my God, what have I been missing?' wow." Then she suddenly slid her hands up underneath the bra, cupping Harley's breasts for the first time. And her action seemed to take Pam by surprise as well as she inhaled sharply. All Harley could do was close her eyes and leaned into Pam's touch, now firmly resting her weight on the redhead's hips.

Pam's hands were warm and dry, and her thumbs rubbed against Harley so gently that it made her whole body crave more. She leaned down to kiss her, sort of trapping Pam's hands underneath her so that she had to slide them out from under her bra. "Catchup time," Harley murmured in between lingering kisses, tapping the line of Pam's collar and trying not to sound as excited as she was.

"Mmm – but – I'm wearing a dress," Pam managed to pant out in between the next round of Harley's kisses.

"Factual," Harley said, sliding down Pam's body just a little and brushing her hair aside so she could get her mouth on Pam's neck. She lightly kissed the tender area under her jawbone, slid her tongue down along the side of her neck, and sucked gently just above her collarbone, grinning when she heard Pam's little hiss. _So warm, so smooth_ , Harley thought, relishing the feel of the girl below her. Then – without ceasing her attentions to the redhead's neck – Harley slid her hand up Pam's side until she found the zipper pull tucked away just below her arm. "Can I . . ." she mumbled, and at Pam's whispered "Yes," Harley let out a low groan and grasped the zipper firmly. _I'm . . . undressing Pamela Isley_ , she thought.

She leaned up to look at Pam as she pulled it down, swallowing hard when she saw how flushed Pam's face was, how dark her eyes were, how her tongue flicked out to moisten her kiss-swollen lips. "So pretty," Harley whispered. She didn't realize she'd voiced the thought until Pam blushed even darker and leaned up to kiss her, hard.

"Do you want to take your dress off now?" Harley said, and Pam nodded. They separated for a second so Pam could wriggle out of the dress, and Harley took the chance to tug her jeans off too. This was the first time Harley had seen Pam's body uncovered, and although the lacy bra and panties she was wearing were clearly expensive and certainly fit her well, Harley was far more enamored by the toned look of her muscles, her tanned skin…For a moment Harley wondered why Pam ever wore clothes at all. It honestly seemed like a crime against nature now.

Wordlessly, both craving the same thing, they lay down on their sides, facing one another in their bras and panties. Pam reached around and placed her hand on Harley's lower back, her fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin, and Harley trailed her hand gently, teasingly down Pam's arm and then up again, until the limited contact drove both of them crazy and they leaned in, kissing just as hungrily as they had in the car the night before. Harley was convinced they could kiss like this for the rest of their lives and she'd still have trouble believing it was real. It was such a wonderful sensory overload… and then Pam boldly slid a leg between Harley's and she was having trouble forming coherent thoughts. Everything was just Pam. Harley rocked against her leg, moaning as Pam thrust her tongue in time to the rocking of Harley's hips.

 _I can have this. This is real_. Suddenly, Harley rolled on top of Pam, straddling one of her legs. Slowly, deliberately, she brought her own leg up, rubbing it experimentally against Pam, who moaned "Harley" in a broken voice that almost undid Harley on the spot. She loved Pam's voice, she loved that sound…she loved that Pam's voice sounded like that because of her.

And then, in a sudden act of bravery, Harley brought a hand between their bodies, sliding it down until her fingertips slipped just under the band of Pam's emerald green lace panties. "Baby," she said in a husky voice, realizing the crossroads they were at. She looked into Pamela's eyes then. Trepidation lingered within them, the realization of a foreign vulnerability, but the want in her eyes was far more prevalent.

Pam bit her lip. Nodded, bucking her hips just slightly. "Please, Harley. I'm so ready," she said.

And she was.


	21. Chapter 21

"Pam," Harley giggled. "Pam, it tickles."

Pam giggled too, but kept her lips pressed to Harley's stomach, brushing a red lock of sweat-damp hair aside and planting another kiss before she moved an inch downward. "You are so squirmy."

"Did you just make up a word?" Harley grinned.

Pamela's head shot up immediately. "No. 'squirmy' is absolutely a word. It's the adjectival form of 'squirm'."

The blonde laughed. "You couldn't be a bigger nerd if you tried. Definitely the hottest nerd I know, though."

"Mente et corpore." Pam smiled as she kissed the skin just below Harley's navel. "Mind and body." She translated before Harley could request it.

Harley's eyelids fluttered closed. "How do you say, 'I like you a lot'?"

"Hmm…" Pam propped herself up on her elbows to think for a moment. "Te amo."

"Te amo…" Harley repeated.

"But technically that means you love me." Pam offhandedly admitted as she dipped back down to continue the progression of her lips.

"Pam!" Harley tugged her up by the shoulders and somehow rolled them so that the blonde was suddenly the one on top again. "That's a mean trick."

Pamela was legitimately confused for a moment. She looked for answers in the bright blue eyes above her. Then realization dawned and she blushed in embarrassment. "No, that's not what I meant. There's just not really a term for 'like a lot' in Latin, it's really just like or love but the way you emphasized the 'a lot' led me to believe it was crucial to your statement, so-"

Harley was kissing her again- slowly, wetly- and when she pulled back she affectionately nuzzled Pam's nose with her own. "Did I mention you're adorable?"

"Once or twice." The redhead smiled. "Although I still don't agree completely with your choice of adjective." She swiftly rolled them over once more and now she was seeing those blue eyes darken below her.

"Do you have any idea how many people would be jealous?" Harley breathed. "If they knew I was in Pamela Isley's bed?"

"Mmm…No." Pam told her as she alternated kissing and dragging her tongue across Harley's jawline, eliciting a wanton moan from the blonde, especially when Pamela paired it with a slow grind of her hips against the other girl's. "How many?"

Harley attempted to buck her hips up to meet her. "All of them."

"All of them?" Pamela giggled before dipping down to suck at Harley's throbbing pulse.

Harley bit her lip to stifle another moan. "Mhm. Every—ah—last one of 'em."

"Well…" Pam dragged her lips back up to meet Harley's. "Too bad for them." She ran her tongue across the other girl's and then took Harley's bottom lip lightly between her teeth before pulling back and releasing it. "Because you're the only one I want here."

"The only one?" Harley asked.

"The. Only. One." Pam punctuated each word with a kiss.

/

Harley could feel those words – _the only one_ – bouncing around in her mind, Pam's sexy bedroom voice echoing over and over. Just when she'd thought that Pam couldn't get any sexier – _fuck_ , there she went trailing her hot tongue down Harley's neck again – she'd gotten to see her in action, so to speak.

 _And my God,_ Harley thought, _if I thought she was amazing before . . ._

Pam was moving lower now, at a languorous pace, leaving no doubt about where she was headed. As her teeth gently scraped Harley's belly button, Harley moaned and then croaked out, "Pam . . . I think I need a drink of water."

The redhead looked up at her, eyes a bit unfocused at first, but then she blinked to clear them and said, "Of course, I'll get us some."

Harley only barely managed to lunge forward and catch her by the wrist as Pam started to rise from the bed. She tugged Pam back down, gently, so they were lying side by side, then kissed her on the nose. "I'll get it," Harley said. "You just lie here and . . . be you."

"Mmm, tall order, but I think I can handle it," Pam said, smiling contentedly up at her. Harley couldn't resist one last kiss before grabbing a fuzzy robe from Pam's bathroom and then heading out into the now dark hallway.

 _Hmm, left takes me back to the main staircase . . . right?_ Harley fumbled her way down the hall, wishing she'd brought her cell phone to use as a flashlight. Her hand brushed a switch, and she flicked on the hall light, sighing in relief.

But – she must have gotten turned around in the dark, because the stairs should have been right there. Harley went through the first door she came to, thinking it would lead her back to where she could cut through to Pam's room, but when she flipped on the light she was in what must have been a guest bedroom. She sighed, turned to retrace her steps – and ran right into Pamela Isley in all her glory, quirking one eyebrow at her and smirking in amusement.

"Y-you're – where are your –" Harley stammered.

Pam stepped forward and fingered the edge of the robe Harley wore. "Mmm, see, I had to go save this blonde who apparently got lost on her way to get water, and turns out she also stole my robe, so I had to leave _au naturel_."

"I think it's pronounced _al dente_ ," Harley giggled.

Pam smoothly slid the robe away from Harley's shoulders, and as it hit the floor she was already skimming her teeth lightly along Harley's collarbone. " _Al dente_ it is," she murmured against Harley's skin, walking her backwards until they collided with the bed and landed on it in a heap. Pam's mouth was still near Harley's collarbone, and now she began trailing kisses lower and lower as if they'd never been interrupted. "Are you still thirsty?" she said, tracing her tongue down Harley's rib cage.

Harley swallowed hard. "I think I'll live," she croaked. She caught a glimpse of heat in emerald eyes before Pam slid down lower, and then Harley only saw stars.

Later, they lay tangled and sweaty in the guest bedroom, grinning stupidly at each other as they tended to do. Harley's head was on Pam's chest, and Pam's arms were wrapped around her tight as their heart rates slowed to normal. Harley listened to Pam's heartbeat, learned the rhythm of her inhales and exhales.

When the phone rang, it startled them both. Harley patted the bed, desperately searching for her cell phone, until she realized that it was a landline ringing on the bedside table. Pam was already halfway over there to answer it.

"Hello, Isley residence," Pam said in a smooth voice that revealed nothing of what they'd been doing five minutes earlier. Harley rolled over onto her stomach, chin in her hands, and watched her.

"M-mother," Pam stammered. "Is everything all right?" Both girls froze, looking at each other wide-eyed. Harley mentally calculated how long it would take her to get dressed and . . . shimmy down the drainpipe? Have Alec bring the car around and jump in through the sun roof?

But then Pam's face relaxed, and she actually _winked_ at Harley, and Harley found that she could breathe again. "Of course, Mother. Enjoy the rest of your evening." She paused. "All right then, I hope your evening is fruitful even if it's not enjoyable." She hung up without saying goodbye.

Then she turned to Harley. "Before you tell me what that was about," Harley said, still peering up at her from where she lay on her stomach, "I have to ask – who has a _landline_ in this day and age?"

"Well," said Pam, holding out a hand and helping Harley crawl off the bed, "it's actually quite prudent in this day and age."

"What age, the 1800s?" Harley said. "Hey, don't roll your eyes at me, Isley!" But Pam was already turning away, quickly grabbing the discarded robe from the floor (Harley had to blink to recover from that view) and saying, "If the cell phone towers ever went out, we wouldn't want to be without communication."

"Yes, communication is important," murmured Harley, coming up behind Pam and kissing her shoulder blade, wrapping her arms loosely around Pam's stomach. "Speaking of, what did your mom want?"

Pam leaned back into her embrace. "She just wanted to let me know that she and Father were able to get the presidential suite, so they'll be staying at a hotel tonight." She spun in Harley's arms, leaned down to whisper in her ear: "Which means _you'll_ be staying _here_ tonight."

Harley gulped. She didn't even have a smart comeback for that. "I-I-okay," she stammered. "I should call my, what's the-"

"Your mom?" Pam said, her lips wandering as always to the hollow of Harley's throat.

"Yeah, her," said Harley. "The one who –"

"Gave birth to you?" Pam giggled. Her hands were stroking over Harley's back and lower, pulling their bodies closer together where they stood.

"Yep!" Harley squeaked. She ducked away and ran down the hall to find her phone.

Then she scurried past in the other direction. "Your room's that way!" she said to Pam, who hadn't moved from her spot in the doorway of the guest bedroom and was watching Harley with obvious amusement.

Harley's mom picked up on the second ring. "Everything okay, hon?" Harley could hear Henry making explosion noises in the background as Zeb giggled loudly.

"Yeah, Mom," Harley said. She took a deep breath and, with an encouraging nod from Pam, said quickly, "Mom, I'm going to spend the night over here if that's okay."

Her mom was silent.

"Mom?" Harley said, aware of how pleading her voice sounded.

"Harley . . ." said her mom, "I trust you, and I know you'll be responsible. But, sweetie – are you sure you two are serious? That she feels the same way?"

Harley blushed and snuck a quick glance at Pam to see if she was overhearing her mom's portion of the conversation. "Um, can we talk about that later?" she said quietly.

"Harley, you're asking me to let you spend the night at the house of a girl I've met twice – a charming and lovely girl, from what I can tell – but I don't really know her, and I don't know . . . I'm just worried that if you two get much more serious, she'll break your heart."

"Well, I'd rather have my heart broken by Pamela Isley than be in a relationship with anyone else!" Harley stated firmly. "You asked if we're serious? I've never felt this way about anyone before. I want to be with her, only with her. And – I think she feels the same. Not sure though, because she's kind of a closed-off little robot person. But –" she was cut off when Pam grabbed the phone and said calmly, "Ms. Quinzel, I can assure you that we are serious and that I have no intention of breaking your daughter's heart. I'll have her home to you by 7:30am tomorrow." She ended the call, tossed the phone aside, and pulled Harley into a kiss that became more and more heated until they were just panting against each other.

"So, we're serious then?" Harley said.

"Yes," Pam said evenly. "You're my girlfriend now."

Then she picked Harley up, carried her over to the bed, and showed her exactly what it meant to be Pam Isley's girlfriend.

/

It turned out Pamela didn't need music or current events or the Wall Street Journal. Just Harley was just fine. They lay on the bed facing each other again, Harley's eyes staring intently back at Pam's green ones. The redhead reached out her hand to cup Harley's face, gently stroking her cheek with her thumb. "You are very pretty." She told her, having been thinking the words over and over again since Harley had arrived at her house. Since she'd met Harley on the first day of school.

The blonde smiled cheekily in return. "Like, my face? Is it so pretty?"

Pam stopped the motion of her thumb and cocked her head slightly, wondering briefly if she'd said something wrong. "Well, yes. That's what I was referring to. But I find the rest of you very attractive as well."

Harley blushed as she giggled. "You told me I was pretty that night at Selina's party. I thought…I thought maybe you didn't mean it because, you know…"

Pam smiled sweetly, leaning in a bit, hoping the relief on her face wasn't too obvious. "Normally I would say take the word of an adolescent under the influence of an illicit substance with a grain of salt, but in this case, take me at my word that I absolutely meant it."

Harley took Pam's hand that was still resting on her cheek and kissed the palm, running her lips over the callouses that- try as she might- Pamela could not do away with. Her mother told her she should be wearing gloves in the garden and on the tennis court to protect her hands, to keep them smooth…but Pamela liked the feel of the dirt between her fingers. Of the racquet swinging in her hand.

And then, as Harley began to drag her teeth across Pamela's index finger, a "mild" state of panic set in. Harley still hadn't had water! Or food, for that matter, and that simply would not do. Pamela assumed Harley had already eaten when she arrived, but it was very possible that assumption was incorrect. And then, as if on cue—

Harley said: "I think I worked up an appetite. Got any food in that giant kitchen?"

Pam reached for the phone immediately. "I'll call the chef."

Harley snatched it away from her, laughing the whole time as she moved to straddle her. Pamela didn't quite understand what the laughter was about, but she didn't mind the position…

"We don't need a private chef, Pam." Harley told her as her laughter faded into a smile. "I can cook."

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Is that a fact?"

"Mhm." Harley nodded resolutely. "I can totally cook us dinner."

The redhead was amused. "Not more cheesy pasta, I hope."

Harley laughed again. "That's called 'mac and cheese'. And everybody likes it but you."

Pam rolled her eyes and began snaking her hand up Harley's stomach, between her breasts, until Harley grabbed it and pinned it firmly back on the bed, leaning over her now. "I'm going to make us pancakes."

Without a moment's hesitation, Pam picked up the phone once more.

"Hey!" Harley protested. "No chef, Pam."

"I'm not calling the chef; I'm calling Arkham Asylum." The redhead deadpanned. "Because only an insane person would suggest pancakes for dinner."

Harley pinned Pamela's other hand to the mattress now as well, forcing her to drop the phone. She dipped down and just barely ghosted her lips against the girl's beneath her, murmuring: "It's called 'breakfast for dinner' and it's delicious."

Pam moaned in frustration when Harley pulled back and the blonde wagged a finger playfully, getting up off of the bed.

"Fine." Pamela huffed, sitting up. "But only simple carbohydrates does not a meal make. We'll need a protein as well, and a vegetable."

Now Harley was narrowing her eyes at her. "Bacon, and…potatoes."

"Ham and steamed chard." Pam countered.

"Ham and salad." Harley found the middle ground. "But not on the same plate."

"Deal." Pam smiled, getting up as well and retrieving an identical robe to hers in the guest bathroom for Harley to wear.

"Where's your milk?" Harley wanted to know once they'd made it to the kitchen. She'd instructed Pam to sit down at the bar and not to interfere.

"I thought I wasn't allowed to help you." Pam smiled coyly, propping her elbow on the counter and resting her cheek in her palm.

Harley shot her a look, and repeated the question, slower this time, with more intent: "Where is your milk, Pam?"

"Where is milk usually kept?" The redhead asked with a giggle.

Harley stuck her tongue out and crossed over to the fridge, tugging on the handle to no avail. "What gives, Isley?" When Pam didn't respond right away, Harley tried the same motion again, just harder.

Pam observed, not for the first time, that Harley wasn't exactly a careful girl. So she calmly got up from her stool and came to join Harley at the fridge, pressing a button on the side that unlatched the door. "It keeps the seal tight." Pam explained. "It's more energy efficient that way."

"Stupid space fridge, stupid space car…" Harley mumbled. Pam gave her a reassuring kiss on the forehead before hopping up on the counter to watch her at a closer proximity.

Once the ingredients were assembled, the mixing portion of the process began. Pamela had never seen a person make pancakes before. She sincerely hoped all chefs glanced shyly over their shoulders before adding an ingredient.

"Why did you put lemon in the milk?" Pamela asked, legitimately curious about this seemingly magical process.

"Because you didn't have buttermilk." Harley explained.

"So you're…curdling it yourself?" Pam let her feet drop to the floor so she could walk over to investigate. She somewhat cautiously peered over the brim of the glass measuring cup. "Huh…"

Harley was regarding her curiously. "Do you want to pour it in?"

Pamela gripped the handle and sloshed the milk around slightly. "Can I?"

"Yeah," Harley giggled. "Go ahead."

The redhead stared intently at the stream of milk as she poured. "So the acidity in the lemon mimics the—"

"Oh my god, go faster!" Harley grabbed her hand and poured the remaining portion of the milk in quickly, splashing it up the sides of the bowl. "We don't have all night, Babe."

"Sorry," Pam apologized. "I don't really cook."

"Yeah." Harley grinned. "I noticed. OK, go put a skillet on the stove."

Pam did as she was told. She did occasionally make eggs for herself, so she knew how to operate the stove and she knew what a skillet was. Harley dropped the batter in semi-even blobs on the pan's hot surface.

"We gotta wait til the surface has dry bubbles." Harley instructed. "And I think I know a great way to pass the time…"

Pam smiled slyly, pressing her against the counter and nipping playfully at her earlobe. She was suddenly reminded of that tutoring session in Harley's bedroom, when Harley had done the same to her.

"Pam, Pam!" Harley gasped as she separated from their hungry kiss a few minutes later. "We have to flip them." She giggled in response to the slightly annoyed look on Pam's face. "Humans need food."

Pamela groaned, separating from her and hopping back up onto the opposite counter, once again watching as Harley moved about the kitchen. She completed the meal, setting a few finished cakes onto each plate as well as a thick slice of ham, then simply taking the salad bowl full of greens and plopping it onto the bar between them.

"There ya go." Harley smiled as she slid Pam her plate. "Some Pam-cakes for ya."

"You didn't…" Pamela almost didn't want to believe it. "You didn't make pancakes just so you could make that pun, right?"

Harley laughed. "It was a major factor, fer sure."

Later that night, Pam provided Harley with a pair of pajamas that Harley jokingly remarked she could wear to an office they were so formal.

Harley giggled as Pam walked her through her elaborate skin care routine before she gave Harley the same treatment. Then Pam wiped the products off Harley's face with a warm washcloth, prompting the question, "Are ya gonna shampoo my hair next?" from Harley.

It took a minute for Pam to realize Harley was joking, but even so, she took the question under consideration. "I suppose it would conserve water…"

Harley laughed. "You'll take a shower with me in the name of the environment? How noble."

Pamela smirked as she adjusted the temperature of the water. "Well I am…"

"Mother Nature's Chosen Protector." Harley finished her thought with a giggle.

"In the flesh…" Pam began to slowly unbutton the nightshirt Harley had clearly put on far too early. This time, when the warm water cascaded through her hair and Harley stood exposed before her, Pamela was far braver than she had been in her dream.

"So…" Harley whispered once the lights were out and they'd pulled the blankets over them. Pam could hear her nervousness just in that one word. "Tonight. Your first time. Was it…?"

Pam nuzzled her face into the crook of Harley's neck, smiling against the smooth skin there. "Actually, I thought the third time was the most memorable."

"I am actually a big fan of time number 5." Harley breathed into Pam's freshly washed hair.

"But we didn't-" Pam started to correct her before she felt Harley's slender fingers slip below the waistband of her pajama pants. "Oh, I see how it is." Pam lolled her head to the side, meeting the blonde's lips in a lazy kiss. "Well played, Quinzel."

Harley didn't wake up to the alarm when it rang in the morning, which Pamela thought was both endearing and a little inconvenient. She did, eventually, get her awake, though, and as Pamela drove her home, she couldn't keep a smile off of her face. By the time they pulled up outside Harley's apartment complex, Pam's cheeks were sore.

"Umm…" Harley unbuckled her seatbelt. "So I think that was definitely the best second date ever. Like for anyone in history."

Pam chuckled. "Well given my point of view is the only one I have; I'm inclined to agree. I want to see you again, though. Today." Pamela hoped she didn't sound too desperate. "I thought we could watch a movie. There's a French film playing at the cinema that looks absolutely captivating."

Harley smiled, leaning forward to peck her on the lips. "Mmm…how about Transformers 13 instead?"

"They've made 13 movies about cars that transform into fighting robots?" Pam was appalled.

"Yep!" Harley laughed. "It's great! My mom gets off work at 4, so any time after that and I'm all yours." After a lingering kiss, Pam was watching her run across the lawn and up the stairs to her apartment.

"Harleen Quinzel." Pamela said quietly before starting the engine again. "Girlfriend." There were so many things going on that Pam didn't understand, and that was a completely foreign concept to her. So much had changed in just one night…one perfect night…and Pam felt…abnormal somehow. Like, fulfilled or was it contentedness, maybe? Either way, there was one thing Pamela knew for certain- she couldn't wait for 4pm.


	22. Chapter 22

"Hi, Mom!" Harley called, a little breathlessly, when she heard Ms. Quinzel unlocking the front door of the apartment. (She was breathless because she had a Zeb draped over her shoulders and a Henry attached to one of her legs as she dragged them both down the hall playing "Monster.")

She heard her mom sit down heavily at the card table in the kitchen. "Go play in your room," she whispered to the boys, who groaned but scampered off when Harley growled at them all monster-like.

"Hey, kiddo," her mom said, rubbing the bridge of her nose with two fingers. She looked up at Harley. "How were the boys today?"

Harley grinned. "Still can't take me on in Monster, especially now that Harry is too cool for it."

Her mom smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Harley . . . we need to talk."

The blonde sat down across from her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, if this is the sex talk, we did that when I was nine – remember? And plus, I'm pretty sure Pam's not gonna knock me up." She giggled, but quickly sobered and slowly retracted her hand when she saw the look on her mom's face.

"Harleen. It's not that. It's –" the older woman trailed off as if she weren't sure how to proceed. She rested her head in one hand, her elbow on the faded brown top of the card table. "It's not just sex. It's – sometimes, you think a person is someone they're not – you two are from such different worlds, I don't think she even – and god, sweetie, I just want the best for you." She looked up at Harley and smiled wanly, dropping her hand to the table. "You get what I'm sayin', right?"

"Yeah, Mom, you're comin' through loud and clear," Harley said with an answering smile. She put a hand on her mom's where it rested on the table. "Sounds like you love me, you want what's best for me . . . and you don't want what happened with Dad to happen to me. That about right?"

"How did I raise such a smart girl?" Ms. Quinzel said, patting Harley's hand now.

"Well," Harley said, batting away a balloon that Henry had just sent flying their way, "a) I had a really good role model, and b) I'm pretty sure you used up all the smarts on me." She giggled when her mom shot a mock-disapproving look her way. Then she cleared her throat and said, "Mom . . . it's not like a you and Dad thing. It's just . . . I want to be around her all the time, ya know? Like now, for example. She's probably waiting outside right now because I told her I'd go ta the movies with her when you got home." She scrunched up her nose and made her best cute face at her mom until the older woman sighed and flopped a hand toward the door.

"Go," said her mom. "But be home by 10. It's a school night."

"Love ya, Ma!" Harley said, smooching her forehead before she dashed out the door, calling "Be good, boys!" as she went out.

Sure enough, there was a conspicuous red Tesla in the parking lot and an even more conspicuous head of red hair in the driver's seat. "Hi," Pam said in that low voice Harley knew only she got to hear, climbing out of the car. Harley melted into her arms and said, "Right on time, just as predicted."

"Well, I knew your mother's shift ended at 4," Pam said, "so I googled the distance from her workplace, allowed six minutes for various leaving-work activities, and planned my departure so I would arrive precisely one minute after she did."

Then, before Harley could so much as roll her eyes affectionately, Pam was pulling her into a kiss that lasted longer than either of them intended, and somehow tongues got involved, and only when they had to come up for air did Harley realize that Pam had her pressed up against the side of the car, one of Harley's hands tangled in her curls and the other teasing under the hem of Pam's dress.

"Wow," Harley breathed, grinning up at her. "If human beings didn't require carbon dioxide to survive, I'm pretty sure we woulda had round 6 right there against the car."

Pam opened her mouth, but shut it quickly when she saw the glint in Harley's eye. "You're joking," she said, less robotically than she probably would have a week ago.

"Mm hmm," said Harley, nuzzling into her neck, burying herself in Pam's scent, just because she could. "I know that human beings breathe sulfur, not carbon dioxide."

"God, you're lucky your face is _so pretty_ ," Pam murmured into her hair, "or I don't know if I could take your casual disregard for the most basic scientific principles." She released Harley (who couldn't suppress a groan when she felt the loss of that warm pressure against her) and walked around to the passenger's side.

Harley tilted her head. "Whatcha doin'?"

"You chose the movie, you're driving us," Pam said evenly. Then she smiled reassuringly. "Harley. You're ready for this." As she got in and clicked her seatbelt, she added, "Also, I've mapped us a route to the movie theatre such that you should encounter a minimum number of stressors."

Harley got in, tentatively. She buckled her seatbelt and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She looked at Pam. "You sure about this?"

Pam leaned over the center console and gave Harley one of those firm, wet kisses that made her feel like she could do anything. She only pulled back a millimeter before whispering, "I'm sure."

And then Harley was sure, too. She put the Tesla in reverse, grinned at her girl, and started navigating Pam's stressor-less route to the theatre.

/

"I'm beginning to regret buying you a convertible." Pam mumbled as she adjusted her hair once they'd come to a stop.

"Y'know, I think you might have a tic. Your hair looks great. It always looks great." Harley came around to open the other girl's door, offering her hand to help her out.

Pam shot her a look, but took her hand anyway. "My hair is no small task."

Harley rolled her eyes as she pulled her up, planting a quick kiss to Pam's nose before locking the car. Pamela subtly glanced around, knowing it was irrational to fear being recognized in this part of town, but feeling a bit paranoid all the same. She forced herself to relax when she determined there weren't any eyes on the couple, and then kissed Harley for real as the girl smiled excitedly at her.

"So you're truly excited to see this film?" She interlaced their fingers and started them on the walk across the parking lot.

"Uh, robot cars fighting other robot cars while Victoria's Secret models watch? Are you kidding? Of course I'm excited!" Harley did a little skip that made Pam laugh as she was reminded for nearly the millionth time in their short courtship just how charming Harley was.

Pam hesitated once they reached the window. "Two for…"

" _Transformers: Age of the Age of Another Age Not Starring Shia Labeouf_." Harley helped her out.

Pamela suddenly wished she hadn't let Harley choose the movie. "Yes, two for whatever she just said."

Harley skipped into the lobby without bothering to hold the door for Pam, and it seemed her hurry was in favor of the concessions stand. At the theater near Pamela's house, gourmet refreshments were brought to you, but it seemed that here, the film patrons had to stand in line for their orders. _How inconvenient_ , Pam thought as she rejoined Harley.

"So what do ya think?" The blonde asked. "Popcorn and sodas? Ooh, and candy. I like Reese's. What do you like?"

"Oh, umm…" The question took Pam by surprise. "I don't…I'm not sure."

Harley giggled. "You don't know what kinda candy you like?"

"Well Mother never allowed simple sugars in the house, and-"

"Shhh…" Harley put a finger to Pam's lips. "You're makin' me sad. We can just share, all right? You like sour stuff?"

As the cashier called them forward, Pam leaned over and whispered: "I'd rather something sweet…" hotly into the blonde's ear, and the girl was such a bumbling mess when they got to the counter that Pamela nearly blushed just by association.

"She would like a…Reese's?" Pamela ventured as Harley struggled to bring herself back under control. "And a large popcorn."

"I'm on it." The boy seemed unduly chipper when fulfilling Pamela's request, but her effect on him was not atypical. "You want butter flavoring on that?"

"I'm sorry, butter flavoring?" Pam asked, not quite understanding his request.

"Yeah." The boy nodded, pointing to a set of dispensers with pump handles. "It makes your popcorn taste like butter."

Pam furrowed her brow. "But what is it actually, if not—"

"Yes!" Someone seemed to have switched Harley back on. "Extra. Please and thank you."

The redhead couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the bright yellow liquid that was being pumped onto their popcorn. "Harley, that is repulsive."

"Yep!" Harley grinned, taking the candy and bucket of popcorn off the counter as Pam paid. "But you can't see Transformers 13 without movie popcorn. That would be downright sacrilegious."

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it." Pam muttered as she directed them into the theater, choosing a spot perfectly in the middle, a luxury afforded to them as a result of arriving 10 minutes early. Pam turned her phone off immediately after sitting down, which made Harley laugh.

She placed the popcorn between them. "Try this, OK? Just one bite."

"Harley…" Pam sighed. "If I try some, will you house the bucket over there? I can't stand the smell."

The blonde rolled her eyes affectionately. "Geez, Red. High maintenance, much?"

Pam regarded her critically. "Are you being intentionally vexing?"

"Just keeping you on your toes." Harley winked, jostling the popcorn a bit. "C'mon. One bite."

Reaching her hand in tentatively, Pam pulled out four greasy kernels and eventually, after glancing at Harley once more, popped them in her mouth, chewing quickly. "Oh, God. It feels like my teeth are wearing a sweater now."

Harley belly-laughed, doubling over in her seat. Thankfully the theater was nearly empty. "You know…" she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "That would be a deal breaker if you weren't perfect in just about every other way."

"Well, you made me eat it," Pamela huffed. "So now you're going to have to help me get this awful taste out of my mouth."

There was a mischievous glint in Harley's eye. "You mean like with something sweet?"

"That's exactly what I mean." Pam smirked and leaned in to capture Harley's waiting lips.

/

It occurred to Harley not two seconds after they entered the movie theater that Pamela Isley had never had a true moviegoing experience.

So naturally, it fell to Harley to make sure she had one.

Butter flavoring? Check. Unnecessarily large box of candy? Check.

Despite her lack of prior experience, however, her girl's instincts were on point: Pam was the first one to steal a kiss in the darkened theater. (Stealing a kiss in the darkened theater? Check.)

It only made Harley more determined to win this game Pam had no idea they were playing.

"Accidentally" brush your fingers together when your date surreptitiously reaches for more of the buttery goodness she claimed not to love? Check.

Yawn and stretch and sneak your arm around your date's shoulders? Check.

Snuggle in tight and lean your head against your date's shoulder, then turn your head just enough to shock her with a wet, lingering kiss against her neck? Check.

Slide a warm hand from your date's knee tantalizingly slowly up her leg until your fingers just _barely_ graze parts they shouldn't be grazing in public? Che – _hey wait a minute, those last two were Pam!_ Harley thought, coming out of her Pam-induced daze.

"Heywheredtherobotsgo?" Harley whispered in one breath, trying to focus on the on-screen action, and Pam's answering chuckle against her neck made little hairs stand up all over Harley's body.

"What robots?" Pam said in a husky whisper of her own.

Full-on semi-public makeout sesh? Oh hell yes, check and double check.

Harley turned so their lips could meet, hungrily, messily, like two teenagers making out in a movie theater should be. She was dimly grateful that no one had sat in the rows behind them – surely, Pam wouldn't be nearly as adventurous if they had.

But what Harley didn't see was that four rows ahead and off to the side, a pair of green eyes was locked on them – widening in shock and then narrowing with a cold resolve.

/

Pam turned to Harley as soon as the credits began to roll. "What time did your mother want you home?"

"10." Harley told her with an almost sad smile. "But it's already 9:30."

"What?" Pam's jaw dropped. "That movie was 5 hours long?"

"Yep," Harley nodded, getting up. "They didn't want to sacrifice a single explosion. They actually blew up that city, you know."

Pam couldn't believe it. She was in a daze, weak on her feet. "I sat in a movie theater for 5 hours?"

"No!" Harley laughed too loudly for the people still watching the credits, drawing some harsh looks. "You're the most gullible genius I know, Pam."

"But…wh…" However long that movie was, Pam certainly felt it had cost her a few brain cells. Maybe even an IQ point or two. She turned her phone back on and followed Harley out of the theater as she looked at the display. It was only 7:10pm. Three was better than five, Pam supposed, but if not for Harley it would have been an embarrassing waste of time.

The blonde was waiting for her just outside the door of the theater, leaning casually against the wall, one knee bent with a sneaker flush on the surface behind her. "Well?" Harley asked with a smile. "What did you think?"

"Of the film?" Pam inquired, wrapping her arms around Harley's waist, appreciating that the lobby was almost empty since there seemed to be some sort of post-credits scene for the movie they'd just walked out of. "It was quite possibly the single worst film I've ever seen, Harl."

The blonde giggled. "Did you mean to give me a nickname?"

Pam playfully bumped their foreheads together, her hands finding their way into Harley's back pockets again. "Do you presume I shortened your name out of stupidity?"

"No." She felt Harley attempt to suppress a shiver at the added contact. "But if you get 'Harl', I get free rein on Pam-related puns. Deal?"

The redhead chuckled. "Well, that hardly seems…" And then all of a sudden, they weren't alone.

"Pammy, Pammy, Pammy." Selina's tone was cloying, "Groping my athletes, are we?"

Pamela ripped her hands away from Harley quicker than she'd ever done anything in her life. She knew that her face had turned nearly the color of her hair, she was so flushed. And there Selina stood with that self-satisfied smirk, her green eyes shining dangerously. "No—it's not—I was just. Why are you here?"

"Well, as a matter of fact…" Selina rested her hand against the wall, casually dropping her hip, essentially assuming the relaxed stance Harley had, at this point, abandoned. "Bruce and I just saw a movie we would be embarrassed to tell our friends about. You, namely. So imagine my surprise when I spot the great and powerful Pamela Isley in the very same theater, watching Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch tear up a city. And with Crotch Rocket, no less."

"Selina…" Pam could barely breathe. "Don't…Please, don't."

"No, no." Selina stopped her. "Canoodling with a subordinate is not a punishable offense, stop your groveling." It was then that Bruce emerged from the theater, coming to stand behind Selina, offering Harley a somewhat pleasant smile and Pam a raised eyebrow. "We're just a bit hurt you didn't tell us, Pammy." Selina affected a condescending pout.

"I'm sorry." Pamela said quickly, knowing that she'd lost her edge in this exchange the moment it started.

"Hmm…" Selina's eyes passed over her friend once more before moving on to Harley. "Congratulations, Crotch Rocket. You're a very lucky girl. And Pam letting you choose the movie? I suppose you must be special. I'm surprised she didn't take you to _Les Amies Dangereuses_. It's playing at our theater across town, Pammy. Did you not realize? You do so love French cinema."

Pamela wanted desperately to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. From the dagger Selina had just sunk into her heart, from the embarrassment on Harley's face and the look of genuine betrayal on Bruce's…but she didn't. She bit the inside of her cheek- hard- and said, in the most confident voice she could muster: "I hope you enjoyed the film." But she broke quickly, adding another "I'm sorry" before turning for the door, not even checking to see if Harley was following.

Outside, Pam leaned against the wall, crossing her arms protectively, trying – and failing – to stop her mind from wandering to the not-so-distant past.

/

"So, in summary . . . I give that movie a D+," Pam finished, sitting cross-legged on her bed, already dressed in her nightgown. Selina lay on her stomach just in front of her, flipping aimlessly through a magazine, and when she didn't respond, Pam nudged her shoulder lightly. "Hey," Pam said. "Did you hear me?"

Selina sighed and paused her page-flipping. "Yeah, Carrot Top, I heard you. Maybe I'm just not in the mood for prop comedy tonight."

Pam cocked her head to the side, bemused. "Selina . . . I don't even know what that means, much less its relevance to my summation of the film we just went to."

The brunette shrugged. "Whatever."

Pam pushed her shoulder again, harder this time. It caught Selina off-guard and in lieu of flopping onto her face, she rolled over onto her back, her momentum pulling the redhead over on top of her.

The two girls froze, staring wide-eyed at one another. Then, agonizingly slowly, Selina bent her knee up, sliding it between Pam's legs. "Selina . . . we said we wouldn't anymore," Pam breathed. "Bruce . . ."

"Bruce is a boy," Selina said, her jaw set in a way that allowed for no argument. "A boy I am very fond of. But we . . . are women." Pam groaned as Selina's hands trailed down her back until they cupped her rear – and then started pulling her gently, rhythmically, insistently against Selina's leg.

Part of her hated herself for letting Selina do this to her – for the way she turned into a wanton mess at Selina's whim.

The other part panted and rocked against her best friend desperately, craving her in a way she knew Selina could never truly return – but Pam would nonetheless settle for this, taking whatever Selina would give her, over and over again.

This time was different, though. Pam's world suddenly spun as Selina flipped them so she was on top, their legs still intertwined, their hips moving slowly together. The brunette dipped her head down, and Pam could feel her warm breath on her neck, her lips grazing Pam's jawline. "You know why you gave that movie a D+, Pammy?" For some reason, Pam found the childhood nickname incredibly arousing, and silently chided herself. She shook her head.

"It wasn't the writing –" Selina rolled against her, and Pam moaned – "or the score –" another roll of her hips, and Pam could feel herself about to break – "or the goddamn cinematography, Francis Ford Coppola." She pulled back and looked straight down into Pam's eyes, ceasing the movement of her hips. "You didn't like that movie because the two bestest girlfriends didn't ride off into the fucking sunset together."

Pam gulped. "Wh-what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Selina practically purred, and now Pam felt her hand sliding up a trembling thigh, just barely under the hem of Pam's nightgown, "that you – want – more." The backs of her fingers brushed against Pam, over her panties, and the redhead hissed at the contact, noticing just before she threw her head back that Selina's eyes were practically black now.

Selina licked at Pam's throat, then sucked gently, just this side of leaving a mark. "Tell me what you want, Pammy," she murmured against her collarbone, holding her fingers perfectly still. "Tell me that you need me. That you'll always need me."

"God, Selina," Pam moaned. "I-I want you. I'll always need you." Then she whispered, "Please."

And Selina smiled as her fingers moved once more.


	23. Chapter 23

_Something doesn't feel right_ , Harley's gut was telling her, and not in a mystery-meat-in-the-cafeteria kinda way like she used to feel when she went to Central.

She'd been distracted all morning, even in Professor Gordon's AP Lit class (her favorite). And she was pretty sure she'd been avoiding Pam . . . maybe? Which would be weird, because she was super into Pam. Like, _super_ into her.

Harley chewed on the inside of her cheek as she made her way through the line, tray in hand. Things had been going great with Pam – better than great – right up through their movie date last night, when Selina had spooked her somehow. After Pam had dashed outside, Harley looked at Selina and Bruce searchingly. Bruce had shrugged, looking as confused as Harley felt, but Selina just gestured after Pam in an offhand way and said loudly, "Come on, Bruce. We should get back to our side of town before sundown."

Outside, Pam fell into step beside her, and Harley handed over the keys wordlessly, not feeling quite ready for nighttime driving yet.

The atmosphere in the Tesla felt loaded somehow, but more tense and less sexually charged than usual. Neither girl talked much on the way home – Harley tried a joke or two about the Transformers movie, but gave up pretty quickly and sank into a reflective silence.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Pam leaned over to kiss her good night – but Harley pulled back without even meaning to and said, in a quiet voice that didn't sound like her own, "Pam . . . are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

Pam sighed and cupped Harley's cheek with her hand, then skimmed her lips along Harley's jawbone and up under her ear until the blonde's breath hitched. "Harley," she murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Harley's neck between words, "I don't think I've ever been happier."

And Harley let herself be swept into a goodnight kiss, let Pam's wind-tangled curls surround her, all the while thinking _That's not what I asked._

"Harley, sweetie, will that be all for you today?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry!" Harley shook her head and grinned sheepishly at the cashier. "Yeah, guess I was daydreamin'." She handed over her money, took her change, and started to cross to the table she sometimes shared with Edward Nygma and Jonathan Crane.

On the way, her teammates Talia and Roxy gestured at her as if to say, "Um, come here?" But Harley hadn't sat with the boys in a while, and she just shrugged at the gymnasts and walked on.

Then a voice rang out from a table Harley had studiously been avoiding, just loud enough to be heard over the din without qualifying as a yell: "Crotch Rocket. Get your tight ass over here and sit by Pam before someone else snatches her up!"

Harley froze, then turned around slowly (dimly aware of the wide-eyed stares of Jonathan, Edward, Cassandra, Talia and Roxy along her route) to see Selina grinning triumphantly at her. From the same table, Bruce and Diana looked encouraging, Dick Grayson was frozen with a bite halfway to his mouth, and Pam . . . Harley braced herself for the famous Isley mask of indifference. But when her eyes met Pam's, the redhead just sort of shrugged helplessly, like _Guess the cat's out of the bag now, eh?_

And things started to feel right again.

/

Pam waited just inside the gymnasium, near the entrance from the locker room. It was part of the pre-meet ritual she and Selina had established years ago: they'd confer briefly prior to the meet (or tennis match), assuring whichever of them was competing of her impending victory, and then the one not competing would join Bruce among the spectators. Bruce required less consultation for his own athletic events, deciding that Selina, Pam and Diana cheering in the stands was plenty of reassurance. After each event, Pam preferred to discuss specific areas for improvement, while Selina tended to rant about other athletes' shortcomings, but their post-sporting-event conversations were a source of comfort and familiarity for both of them.

When Selina came out, Pam saw a look of – perhaps relief? – flash across her face when she spotted the redhead. "Well, if it isn't my most bestest bestie," Selina said, her tone laced with sarcasm despite the truth of the statement, leaning against the wall and facing Pam. "Come to cheer on your little girlfriend?"

"I'm here to cheer on both of you. The whole team, as a matter of fact," Pam said evenly. "I'm sure you'll perform superlatively today, as always."

"I'm not sure 'superlatively' is a word," said Selina. "But–" and here her tone felt sincere to Pam, almost vulnerable – "thank you." She paused for a moment as if there were more to say, but then tossed her hair and walked out to join the few members of her team who were already sitting along the side.

"It's the adverbial form of 'superlative,'" Pam muttered to herself.

"What is?" said Harley brightly, emerging from the locker room in her black and green outfit.

"Nothing!" Pam said, startled for some reason even though she was well aware that Harley was a member of the gymnastics team. "Hi!"

"Hi," said Harley with a little grin. It was so cute, so utterly open and guileless, that Pamela took a calculated risk and leaned in, kissing Harley on the edge of her mouth, lingering just long enough that anyone watching would know it was more than friendly. She was suddenly reminded of Selina at her tennis match.

Harley looked stunned when Pam pulled back. "For luck," Pam said with a shrug.

"Ms. Isley." Now Pam had a right to be startled, as she whirled around to see Professor Gordon sitting in her wheelchair behind them.

Harley jumped a bit too before offering an awkward. "Uhh…I think I better get going. Thanks for the—uh—luck." For a moment, it looked like she might lean in for another kiss, but she stole a look at her professor instead and then exited the scene quickly, following Selina to their team's bench.

"Would you be a dear and steer me over to the stands?" Gordon asked, the hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

"Yes!" Pam answered far too…everything. Harley, Professor Gordon and Selina and her mother-the four people that Pamela couldn't- for the life of her- maintain her usual effortless confidence in front of.

"I'm happy to see you making friends outside of your socio-economic group," the professor told her as Pam wheeled her through the gymnasium.

Bruce waved as they approached. As always, her loyal friend had saved her a seat, at the very end of the front row. "Hey, Professor," he said, his winning smile plastered onto his handsome features. "Cool of you to support the student athletes."

"We've got the best gymnastics program in the country," Gordon answered plainly as Pam parked her at the side of the bleachers, taking her seat between Bruce and her teacher. "And I get the faculty discount."

Bruce nodded in understanding and then turned his attention to Pam. "Hey, I've got some chemistry questions."

Pam rolled her eyes. "Bruce, you're good at chemistry."

Bruce snaked his arm around Pam's waist before suddenly using his impressive strength to pull her onto his lap. "Hell yeah I am."

"You are honestly such a slut," Pam said, pushing against him and placing herself firmly back in her own seat. Then she remembered they were in the presence of their teacher. Bruce seemed to have the same thought and looked nervously over at Professor Gordon… who was barely hiding a smile.

"Well, you don't seem to need any chemistry help either." Bruce joked, obviously relieved that Professor Gordon wasn't going to call his father. "Harley was all over you in that movie theater." Although his tone was lighthearted, the comment seemed pointed. This was clearly his way of broaching the subject of their awkward Sunday encounter.

Pam glanced at Professor Gordon, who was either purposefully ignoring them or genuinely interested in the warmups playing out ahead of them. "Where's Dick?" Pam asked, not quite ready to respond to Bruce's real question.

"Didn't want to come." Bruce told her.

Pam was surprised. "Why not? He loves gymnastics."

"I think you broke his heart." Bruce laughed. "He's been trying to get up the courage to ask you out since like freshman year…which reminds me, is that why you weren't really into it when we made out that one time? Because you're only into girls?"

"No." Pam crossed her arms. "I wasn't into it because you kept saying 'this is so wrong' and telling me I had a 'sick mind.' Not exactly a turn on, babe."

"In my defense…" Bruce put his hands up like he was giving her a sales pitch. "Pretty sure I was hammered."

"Very much so." Pam agreed, watching Harley go through her warm-up progressions, which reaffirmed Pam's love of leotards. "But anyway, Dick doesn't actually like me, I'm just the closest thing he could get to an age-appropriate version of Gor…" She trailed off as their teacher finally turned to them again, her brow furrowed.

"What do you think about a national championship this year, Professor?" Bruce came to Pam's (or Dick's) rescue with a quick change of subject.

"You can call me Barbara after school hours, Mr. Wayne."

"Barbara it is, then." Bruce grinned.

His smile seemed to achieve something Pamela's couldn't because Barbara returned the good-natured expression. "Well, we should have had it last year, honestly. Yes, we lost Brown, but Quinzel adds a lot of depth to the all-around, especially on beam. If Selina can keep everyone focused and they incorporate Kate's—sorry—Coach Kane's critiques, I see no reason why they wouldn't win it this year."

Bruce's grin broadened. He was obviously pleased with what Barbara had told him. "Hear that, Pammy?" He bumped his friend lightly with his shoulder. "Remember happy Selina? We could get her back! You just have to quit distracting her."

Pam set her jaw, choosing not to unpack the meaning of his comment at the moment, as it was time to stand for the National Anthem.

/

Harley couldn't believe that she was standing in this gymnasium, wearing Gotham Prep black and green. Her joining the team had bumped them up into the number one spot in the nation, and with how they were performing this evening, the ranking seemed to be very much deserved.

Cass had just finished her bar routine, scoring a 13.4 out of a possible 13.8, and though Harley wasn't exactly fond of Selina at the moment, she certainly appreciated how she cheered on her team. Cass returned to the bench wearing a rare smile and received an enthusiastic high five from Selina before the brunette stripped off her jacket and stepped up for her turn on the bars.

Harley had her own little mantras she repeated in her head as she prepared for a routine, but she was very curious as to what Selina's would be. Maybe she had mean and sort of endearing nicknames for herself too. Her approach to the bars was calm, serene, even. There wasn't a hint of nervousness in her movements or expression…but Harley did notice something. After Selina finished thoroughly chalking her hands, she patted them twice on her thighs, adjusted her wrist straps, and then looked over at the stands.

Bruce was there, and as she looked over he cupped his hands his mouth and used them like a megaphone to shout: "Kill it!"

To his left, on the edge of the bleachers, was where Pam sat. Her back was straight- posture impeccable, as per uje- but there was a nervousness in her shoulders, and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, almost like she was praying but with eyes wide open. Selina gave her a subtle nod and Pam nodded back like she was assuring her it would all be fine.

 _You're not jealous, it's their thing, OK?_ Harley reminded herself. _You and Pam have other things, like kissing or giggles or handholding. You don't need to nod at each other too._

Selina clapped her hands together one last time and then nodded to Ms. Kane's assistant coach, Thomas, who gave her a boost up onto the bar.

It only took one swing for Harley to remember why Selina Kyle was regarded as one of the five best high school gymnasts in the nation. She was just…flawless. Harley was taught that the goal of gymnastics was to make the most difficult things in the world appear simple, and Selina was achieving that with ease…until the second jump back up to the high bar. She gripped it too tightly with her right hand, making her lose momentum coming out of her turn, which is when Harley knew Selina was supposed to hold a handstand before setting her dismount in motion. Her body went past parallel and instead of simply abandoning the skill and trying for it on the next go around, she committed to it, attempting to use the strength of her core to push her body straight against her forward momentum. She did, eventually, get herself back up into the handstand position, but at that point she was already being deducted for the missed skill. Her dismount looked clean in the air, but she did a slight hop on the landing.

Harley's eyes shot quickly to the leaderboard, awaiting Selina's score. She didn't think it would be enough to damage their team score, but she was nervous anyway.

There it was: a 13.2 out of a possible 14.0. "Goddamn, piece of shit, motherfucker…" Selina mumbled beside Harley as she too studied the scoreboard. The mistake narrowed the gap between Gotham Prep and Metropolis Academy, but Gotham still had a comfortable five-tenths lead. And with beam exercise coming up, which was Harley's best rotation, she knew they could get it done…with or without a nod from Pam.

What she didn't expect was the eruption of applause after her dismount from the beam.

Harley smiled broadly, raising her arms above her head to present to the judges. The routine had felt pretty solid…but full-on applause was rare at a gymnastics meet. Then again, this was Gotham Prep. Everything seemed to be bigger and better here – why shouldn't that include the fans' enthusiasm? Harley skipped back to the bench and received a high five from all of her teammates, even Selina, although hers was more tentative. Harley was still looking at her captain when the girl's face went white, her mouth falling open slightly.

"What?" Harley turned back to the scoreboard to see a…14.8 out of a possible 15. _Only a two-tenths deduction? Hell yeah!_ Harley couldn't be happier…that was, until she saw the real reason for Selina's expression. Harleen Quinzel had jumped her to the top of the all-around chart. She hadn't just helped her team win the meet; she'd won it herself! There were hugs and pats on the back, but the best congratulations she received was seeing Pam stand up and cheer, a beaming smile on her face. And so Harley was smiling too, so wide it hurt.

/

 _No…_ Selina couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her name…in the silver position? Second place? Second best? No! That couldn't be…The captain doesn't make mistakes! They don't succumb to the pressure, they just don't.

She dragged her eyes back over to the bleachers, embarrassed beyond belief. There was Bruce, looking just as astonished as Selina probably did. But what she needed was the nod. The one that told her it would all be fine. She knew Pam would recognize the embarrassment on her face, but-Pam was clapping. Standing. Smiling. Clapping.

/

Harley smiled to herself in the locker room as she pulled her baggy sweatshirt on over her sports bra- two things that would be easy for Pam to slip her hand under. Harley flushed slightly at the thought, and began to hurriedly lace up her sneakers, wondering briefly if Pam would care that she hadn't taken a shower.

 _Tough luck_. Harley decided. _I'm a winner._

"Eh-hem." Someone cleared their throat.

Harley looked up to find Selina standing above her. _Shit_. "Hey, I'm really sorry I–"

Selina raised an eyebrow. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I just…Sometimes it's hard competing against a teammate, ya know?" Harley tried to sound apologetic. "And your routine looked so good too, must have been a chalk problem."

"No." Selina shook her head. "It was a grip problem. I'm not going to blame an inanimate object for my failures."

"Oh, well…" Harley was surprised at Selina's honesty with herself. "And it's pretty cool that we locked up first and second place for our school."

Selina grinned. "It sure is. And finishing first…I guess you and Pam do have something in common after all."

"What's that now?" said Harley, her mind a bit scattered from the endorphins.

"I mean when I took Pam's virginity last year." Selina clarified. "I seem to remember her finishing first. Just like you!" She stalked over to the door of the locker room, then turned back, a hard smile firmly in place. "Congratulations on your win."

Then she swept out, leaving a stunned and broken Harley alone on the bench.

Harley knew who had entered the locker room before she even heard her voice. She knew the click of those heels, swore she even caught a whiff of that fancy lotion she'd gotten attached to.

"Harley? I ran into your teammates in the hallway, and they said they're going for ice cream to celebrate your victory. Rather juvenile if you ask me, but . . ." Pam's voice trailed off. Then her heels clicked faster on the tiles, and Harley felt the heat from Pam's body as she sat down right next to her on the bench. "What's wrong? Why are you sitting with your head in your hands like that? You won!"

As she shrugged Pam's arms from around her shoulders and stood, Harley laughed, broken and bitter – it couldn't have sounded less like her usual joyful bubble of laughter. She crossed her arms tight across her chest, leaned her back against the cold row of lockers and finally raised her head to look at Pam.

"It's all about winning for you, isn't it. All of you." Harley shook her head. _You fucking idiot,_ she thought. _Should have listened to Ma – she tried to warn me – turns out they're just as bad as I always knew they'd be._

Pam looked utterly confused as she tried to process Harley's outburst. "I-I don't understand," she said. "I meant you came in first – and the team won the meet – these are good things. Right?"

"I'm familiar with the term, Pam," Harley said, and she felt a little satisfaction when Pam's spine straightened at the coldness of her tone. She kept her arms crossed but straightened up from the lockers now. "You should go."

"Harley – I – what's going on?" Pam said, and she looked so lost that Harley almost broke, almost sank down into her lap and ran her hands through her hair and kissed her until everything was okay again.

Almost.

"Go, Pam," she said, now clenching and unclenching her fists. "Go meet Selina. Fucking nod at her, or take her back to your place, or whatever you two feel like doing. I don't care anymore."

A wary look crossed Pam's face. "Harley –"

"Selina is a lot of things, Pam, but at least she's not a fucking liar." Harley took a deep breath, trying to quiet the tone of her own voice as it echoed around the locker room. "I hope you had fun slumming it with me. Guess it wasn't as _special_ as you pretended, but hey – at least you got to see how the other half lives."

She turned away, hating herself for doing this to Pam, for still wanting to run into her arms, for letting herself get fooled just like her mom did. "Keep the car," she said quietly. Besides the absence of retreating heels, Harley would have assumed Pam had left it was so quiet for a moment.

"No." Pam had evidently found her voice because her tone was firm now. Harley felt her come nearer. "Don't be petulant, Harley. Tell me plainly what's bothering you. I'm told that's how people navigate relationships."

"Oh yeah?" Harley turned around to find Pam was standing right behind her. "Were you also told not to lie? Because that's usually a deal-breaker."

Pam sighed, looking Harley straight in the eye as she took her hands. Harley wanted to push her away again, but her hands were so soft and her expression so sincere… "Can you tell me what's wrong?" Pam asked again. "Please?"

"You—you lied to me. About you and Selina. You lied, Pam." Harley's voice was small. Having Pam this close to her…she'd lost her edge.

A familiar expression was creeping into Pam's features. One Harley had seen before—the day her mom came home. It was shame. The redhead dropped the other girl's hands, looked down at her feet and swallowed. "Did Selina tell you?" She murmured.

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Harley's stomach now, and without even thinking about it, she cupped Pam's face in her hands.

"I'm sorry." Pam whispered, still not lifting her eyes. "I didn't think you would—if you knew—I didn't think you would…"

"Want you?" Harley asked, in disbelief at the insecurity of the beautiful girl in front of her.

Pam nodded wordlessly, and Harley caved. Unapologetically. She kissed her softly, and when she pulled back, Pam's eyes were closed like she was afraid Harley would be gone when she opened them.

"Pam, I don't care about that. I don't care that you've been with another person." Harley assured her, never dropping her hands from the girl's face. "I just—look—my dad…he was a liar, and I get scared, OK?" _Wait a minute. You can be mad, Harley!_ _You have a right to be mad!_

But it was too late, Pam was already wrapping her up in her arms, kissing her deeply, surrounding her completely in her scent, and Harley melted. What else could she do?

 **AmberZ10 author's note: Hey guys, bear with us on Selina, OK? If you've read my other stories you know there isn't much I do without an endgame or a solid justification. Trust. Thanks for reading.**


	24. Chapter 24

Selina slammed the door of Bruce's Aston Martin, trudging with quick, angry steps up her driveway and into her house. Bruce had to jog to keep up, carrying her bag like the gentleman he was. And that's what bothered Selina most of all. It wasn't that Bruce was completely loyal to her. Not that Bruce was at her beck and call or that she had some supernatural power over him. What bothered Selina was that Bruce was a genuinely good person. A good man who loved her despite everything. Who was maybe her best friend even when they fought. She didn't understand it, she barely even trusted it…and it just royally pissed her off because what the fuck had she ever done to deserve him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And what had Harley ever done to deserve Pam? Ugh.

These thoughts carried her through the front door and halfway up the stairs before she was stopped in her tracks by what was- at this point- an unfamiliar voice.

"Selina, Bruce, Pamela…" Her mother greeted without looking up from her magazine.

"Pam's not here." Selina didn't mean it, but her words came out in a bitter growl.

"No?" Dr. Kyle put down her reading material. "Did you two get in a fight?"

Selina could feel the pressure of angry tears behind her eyes. "No!"

Bruce entered the house with a calming presence. "Hello, Dr. Kyle." He said with a slight sigh.

The older woman smiled. "Are you hungry? I ordered food this evening, there's still some left over."

"I thought you said you had a conference." Selina intoned. "You said you had a conference, but if they let you out early you'd come to my gymnastics meet."

"Oh, was that tonight?" Dr. Kyle looked a bit regretful. Just a bit.

Selina stayed silent, starring her mother down from her place on the stairs. Bruce took his cue and began to follow her, but the voice of Dr. Kyle stopped them once again.

"Take a condom, Bruce. There, in the bowl. I'm sure your children would be darling, but we're attempting to prove nurture can prevail over nature." She pointed lazily towards the table by the stairs where there was, in fact, a bowl full of condoms. Then she resumed her reading.

It took every ounce of willpower Selina possessed not to scream then. Instead, she nearly sprinted up the stairs to her bedroom, hoping that neither Bruce nor her mother registered the embarrassment on her face. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,_ she reminded herself as she lay face down on her bed.

Bruce came in after her and closed the door behind them. Without a word, he sat down next to her and rested his hand soothingly on the curve of her back, reminding her once again that she didn't deserve him or this life.

"Selina..." Bruce said. "Don't listen to her. She doesn't mean to come off like that. You don't either."

"Don't explain my mom to me." Selina said, the sound muffled into her pillow.

Bruce sighed and laid down next to her. "I wanted her to come too."

Selina flipped her head to face him. "Probably best she didn't, since I chose tonight for my first fuck up in two years."

Bruce trailed his hand lightly up and down her back. "So maybe your mom wasn't there…but I was there, and Pam was there," here, Selina grunted. "And even Professor Gordon."

"Ugh!" Selina turned onto her back. "Of course I fuck up in front of her. She's gonna kick my ass in class."

Bruce chuckled. "Selina, she's a teacher. Not everyone is out to get you."

"Yeah, you just keep thinking that, Brucie." She pat his cheek condescendingly.

The boy rolled his eyes. "You wanna enlighten me as to why you're being such a bitch to Pam?"

"Because she should be here." Selina mumbled. "I can't believe she's got the hots for Crotch Rocket."

"Selina…" Bruce laughed. "Harley is hot."

"Well so is Diana!" Selina argued, sitting up. "And she's obviously into redheads, so…match made in heaven!"

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. "You would rather Pam date Diana?"

"Well, yeah!" Selina said like it was obvious. "At least we've vetted her. Crotch Rocket is literally an idiot."

"I think she just has a different sense of humor than we do." Bruce reasoned. "The rest you can blame on her being blonde."

Selina allowed herself an amused smirk.

"Here's what I know, OK?" Bruce continued. "I know you were Pam's first friend. I know that both of you were at my mom's funeral. I know that I was your first kiss and I know that Pam was the first person to tell you she loved you, and I know that there will probably be a few different people that Pam dates because she's crazy hot and I always suspected she was a playa'." Selina rolled her eyes affectionately. "But at the end of the day, I know that it will always be us three."

Selina was quiet for a moment, letting those words sink in. When she finally spoke, she said: "Pam is hot therefore a player? I'm going to start calling you The World's Greatest Detective."

Bruce laughed. "Oh, you know she could get mad pussy."

Selina gagged. "What the fuck, Bruce?!"

He was laughing harder now. "I knew you'd hate that."

Selina rolled her body on top of his, pressing his muscular form into the bed. She looked at him for a moment, green eyes meeting blue, until his breathing returned to normal, then she lay her head down on his chest. "Please don't leave me." She whispered.

Bruce silently brought his hand up to stroke her hair.

 _I don't deserve it._ The guilt inside Selina was thrashing around so violently that it was causing her physical pain. _I don't deserve him. I don't deserve her. I'm an imposter. I don't belong here. They'll figure it out eventually._ "I was a bitch to Harley tonight." _I'm no better than Harley, I'm worse. I'm just street trash that someone bothered to pick up._

Selina felt the vibrations of a chuckle in Bruce's chest. "You're always a bitch to Harley." He reminded her.

"I said something pretty fucked up, though." _Tell him! Tell him, you stupid bitch. Crawl back in the gutter where you belong._

Bruce looked down at her. "Selina Kyle, is this…remorse?" He meant it as a joke, but that just made everything worse.

 _He'll leave. Just like Pam. You don't deserve them._

She laid her head down once more, nuzzling into him slightly. "I love you."


	25. Chapter 25

Harley navigated the cafeteria absently, lost in thought. Her peers looked at her a bit differently now, she could tell. Whether it was because she and Pam were sort of "out", or because she'd beaten Selina in the all-around, Harley wasn't quite sure. But something felt different, a good sort of different. Better. Even if the deal with Pam was a little confusing at the moment. Like, it should have all been totally fine after a full 48 hours, but Harley was still feeling a little weird about things for some reason.

In any case, she grinned at Cassandra, who nodded back serenely. Harley smoothly skirted around the table where she knew Selina would be holding court, catching Talia's and Roxy's eyes at their table and winking at each of them. For the first time since arriving at Gotham Prep, she felt like she could afford to make a choice about who she sat with, and she was entitled to that choice because…she was Pamela Isley's girlfriend or she was currently the school's leading gymnast. Either one, or maybe both.

When she plunked her tray down, Edward and Jonathan both jumped a little. "Well, well," Edward said, clearly trying to _play it cool_ , "look who's back."

"Hey, Harley," Jonathan mumbled.

"Trouble in paradise?" Edward asked, arching an eyebrow, even if he seemed a bit giddy about the statement. He was blushing by proxy and Harley wasn't quite sure he was aware of that fact.

Harley shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal she was now dating (and had slept with) the girl these guys had identified as the absolute top of the food chain. "Nah. Just some drama. But Pam 'n I are good." She laid the name abbreviation on thick. Oh, God, she was totally bragging. Harley looked at Edward a bit apologetically, trying to read him. "Sorry I haven't been around much, Eddie. Just—crazy."

Edward's expression softened. He started to reply – and then his owlish eyes widened even farther as he looked at something over Harley's shoulder.

"Is this seat taken?" Pam nudged Harley lightly with her hip, and Harley automatically scooted over to the left to make room for her, hoping she didn't look as surprised as she felt. As the redhead sat down with a fluid grace not often seen in a high school cafeteria, Jonathan's mouth dropped open and Edward stammered "P-Pamela Isley." It seemed that talking about Pam and Harley dating was much different than seeing visual proof right there in front of them.

Harley smiled softly at Pam, slid their fingers together under the table, and said, "Gentlemen, please address her as Pamela _Lillian_ Isley. That's how it's written on her business cards, anyway."

Pam wrinkled her nose in confusion, looking so adorable it made Harley's stomach clench. "Just Pamela is fine, Harley – oh, you're joking." She shook her head and a tiny embarrassed smile escaped her lips. When Harley tried and failed to suppress a chortle, Pam narrowed her eyes and said, "Shall I have some business cards made for you, _Harleen_?"

Harley leaned her cheek on the hand not holding Pam's and grinned up at her. "Let me guess – you have a calligrapher on retainer?"

"No, I pay her by the hour," Pam started – then caught herself. "Augh! You're so frustrating."

"Yeah, but you love it," Harley said, leaning in closer now.

"I do," Pam murmured, leaning in too, so that their noses brushed gently. Harley felt a rush of relief, realizing that their banter was still fun and easy despite their surroundings.

"Ahem!" Edward cleared his throat. Harley sprang quickly backwards while Pam smirked, turning her attention to their tablemates. Eddie wore a gleeful grin, and Jonathan had apparently not closed his mouth since Pam sat down.

With a small sigh that made it clear Pam was only acknowledging the boys because it seemed important to Harley, Pam painted on one of her winning smiles. "Edward. Jonathan." She was studiously ignoring Harley's silent giggles beside her. "How have you both been?"

"Great!" Edward said. Jonathan nodded, still blinded by Pam's star-power.

Harley sighed, shaking her head as if to say _she's giving you a chance here, guys_. "I swear, none of you know how to talk to human beings. Thank god I'm here." She squeezed Pam's hand, which she was still holding, to show her that she was joking (kinda) and also including Pam in the social awkwardness. "Jonathan, are you still busy planning that haunted house thing?"

Jonathan's face lit up. He leaned over the table conspiratorially. "Yes!" he said in his quiet voice. "It's next Saturday. I've drawn up plans to transform the school gym into the most terrifying house of horrors anyone has ever experienced."

"Jonathan, buddy," Edward said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "we talked about this. The haunted house is for _children._ "

"Children need to be scared," said Jonathan.

The other three cocked their heads in unison and looked at him for a moment. Then Harley said, "So . . . aside from striking terror into tiny hearts, how does this thing work?"

"It's a Gotham Prep tradition," Jonathan said excitedly, his passion for the subject matter evident. "I've been looking forward to running it my entire life. We transform the gym into a house of horrors –"

"She got that part, man," Edward cut him off and turned to Harley to take his crack at an explanation. "Every year, we put on this haunted house. Gotham Prep students organize it and volunteer the day of, and it's open to the whole community. Families who can afford to donate make huge donations that we give to charity afterwards, and families who can't afford to donate can bring their kids for some free Halloween _fun_." He emphasized that last word, with a pointed look at Jonathan, who shrugged and shrank back into himself, taking a bite of his food. "I think the charity is for orphans or something. I can't remember, but there are always a bunch of random kids there."

"And you have to dress up!" Jonathan suddenly interjected, his tone sounding a bit desperate. "You should come dressed as your biggest fear."

All three of his table companions looked at him strangely, Pam most of all. From her expression, Harley surmised she might be regretting sitting down at this table.

"We should go, Pam!" Harley grinned, turning to the other girl, trying to salvage what they had left of this lunch.

"Of course," said Pam with a more controlled smile, her eyes still flitting nervously to Jonathan. "It's for charity. My family believes strongly in philanthropy."

"Well, I believe strongly in dressing up in costume!" Harley piggybacked. "So I'm in!" She impulsively pecked Pam on the lips. Both girls blushed and studiously turned their attention to their lunches.

They didn't notice Selina's glare from across the cafeteria.

/

Selina chewed her food slowly, distracting herself from Bruce and Dick's discussion of their Halloween plans to watch Pam converse with some losers at Harley's table.

"Would you…date Harley?" Selina's question was directed at Diana, although she didn't remove her gaze from the blonde in question.

"Mmm…not my type," Diana answered, moving her bite of food into her cheek so that she could speak. "Pam, though? Yeah. Redheads and guys that look like they could be my brother. That's what makes my world go round."

"She's cute, though, right?" Selina asked. "Like…they look good together?"

"Few rock the _girl next door_ look better," Diana admitted, her gaze now drifting over to that table as well. "And yeah, they're cute. Harley's complete lack of self-awareness complements Pam's vanity perfectly, don't you think?"

"Whatever," Selina muttered, dragging her eyes back to her food.

Diana laughed. "I can tell you're not a Harley fan…"

"She's a fucking dumbass," Selina snapped, more harshly than she'd intended. "Just look at her." The blonde was, at that moment, wearing the perfect dopey grin to back Selina's statement.

Diana's laugh faded into a grin. "Yeah, I think maybe you're right. But…" she bumped Selina with her shoulder until the other girl met her eyes, "I think Pam could use a little of that. Maybe Harley will inspire her to be a dumbass herself more often, since she clearly needs it. It's stressful, being exceptional all the time."

"You're exceptional all the time," Selina retorted with an eye-roll.

"As are you," Diana chuckled. "I mean…we do what we have to do, perfection is our nature, after all. But everyone needs an outlet. Maybe Pam's found hers." The girl shrugged, getting up from the table and taking her tray with her. "Lacrosse meeting. Gotta get going."

Selina nodded, but didn't look at her. "Later."

"Diana, wait!" Bruce stopped her. "You coming up to the lake with us next Saturday, or what?"

That question shook Selina from her thoughts and she looked at her boyfriend, confused. "No, babe, next Saturday is the haunted house. We're not going to the lake."

Selina's voice was stern, yet somehow also…hurt? Diana took a moment to regard the brunette, who was holding her gaze keenly on Bruce, before clearing her throat. "Yeah, sorry, Bruce. Six attractive, wealthy teenagers in a cabin by the lake on Halloween? That's a horror movie setup right there." She watched as Selina's posture visibly relaxed. "I'm with Selina. The haunted house is a Gotham Prep tradition."

Bruce groaned, but conceded with a sigh. "Fine."

"Jesus, Bruce," Dick rolled his eyes. "You are so pussy-whipped."

"Careful, Dick," Selina sat back, resuming her usual confident stance, her eyes glinting playfully once more. "This kitty's got claws."


	26. Chapter 26

Author's note: shout out to Dude for slaving away on this chapter

"And . . . open them!" With a flourish, Pam uncovered Harley's eyes, resting her chin on the blonde's shoulder and sliding her hands around to rest on her hips.

Harley instinctively leaned back into Pam's warmth, breathing in her scent, and it took her a second to realize what Pam's 'surprise' was.

"Aw, Pam-a-lamb, you got me . . . a short gentleman in a vest? You really shouldn't have, babe."

Pam scoffed and released Harley, who whimpered a little at the loss of contact. She crossed to the man and stood next to him. "Harley, this is my family's tailor. He's here to help with Saturday." Harley's face must have been scrunched up in confusion because Pam sighed affectionately and went on. "The haunted house. Since it will be our first public outing as a couple, I thought it was only appropriate that we coordinate our costumes."

"Ah," Harley said, her eyes brightening. "You mean – you want us to do a couples costume?" Pam nodded shyly, and Harley clapped her hands and giggled before running over and throwing her arms around Pam's shoulders, leaning up to catch her lips in an overjoyed kiss.

When the tailor cleared his throat, the girls separated, but Harley missed the contact and quickly wrapped her arms around Pam's waist, holding her tight. "So, babe, what are we going as? Let's see, what would Pamela Isley dress us as . . . famous botanists? Ivy League deans? Tennis players . . . nah, too obvious."

Pam gently put a finger on Harley's lips, and when Harley looked up at her, the redhead was – beaming was the only word for it. "I wanted it to be special for you, so I thought we could be characters from that _Mean Girls_ movie you're always quoting."

Harley was talking before she could help herself. "Oh! That's awesome! So, you're obviously Cady – yeah, I'm gonna call you Caddy, haha! – and I'm, um . . . Karen?"

Her girlfriend looked at her blankly. "I don't know who they are. But I did research the film on the internet, and the characters of Mrs. George and Ms. Norbury seemed like they'd be fun. You'll be Mrs. George, of course."

Now it was Harley's turn to be confused. "Mrs . . . you mean, Regina's mom? You . . . you want us to go as the mom and the teacher?" She couldn't help it – she dissolved into giggles against Pam's collarbone.

"Well, when you put it like _that_ ," Pam said, a hint of laughter dancing in her voice too.

Harley got ahold of herself and cleared her throat, releasing her hold on Pam and taking a step back. She indicated the tailor. "And he's here to . . .?"

"To make our costumes, of course," said Pam.

"Naturally," Harley said, mock-serious. "The tailor is here to make our custom _Mean Girls_ Halloween costumes."

"I've found that bespoke costumes are the only way to ensure accuracy," Pam said. "Now – shall we?"

As they made their way over to the tailor, who was attempting to busy himself with his measuring tape and pins, Harley pulled Pam's ear to her mouth and whispered, "Is it weird that I was hugging you like a koala bear that whole time?"

She grinned at Pam's predictable response: "Koalas aren't bears, Harley. They're marsupials."

/

As Alec pulled up in front of the school, Pam adjusted her brown wig one last time. _What are you thinking, Pamela? Dressing as a high school teacher/bartender in front of your peers? Wearing [shudder] glasses in public?_

Then she thought of Harley's bright blue eyes, the way they lit up every time they landed on Pam, the bounce in her step, the feel of her hands tangling in Pam's hair – and she remembered exactly why she was doing this.

She sighed, nodded curtly to Alec, and exited the car with as much grace as she could muster.

Pam took comfort in the fact that none of her classmates were outside the school. She'd arrived early for two reasons: 1) to acclimate herself to the situation and her less-than-impeccable ensemble in relative privacy, and 2) because she thought that it would make Harley happy if Pam offered assistance to the Crane boy. (It surprised Pam how quickly Harley's happiness had moved up the priority scale. It was probably those adorable pigtails. Or the way she scrunched her whole face up when something confused her. Or the way she gasped every time Pam's hands found their way under her shirt and caressed her tight abs . . .)

Lost in her Harley-related reverie, Pam somehow found herself in front of the double doors that led to the gymnasium. She shook her head slightly to clear it, then scoffed as she had to re-adjust her wig yet again.

Then she pushed the doors open confidently – and gasped.

Harley had been accurate when she said that Halloween was Jonathan Crane's "jam." Pamela was not often caught off guard, but she was stunned at the transformation before her.

The well-equipped but bland gymnasium had been converted to a house of horrors – and that was with the lights fully on. Black walls had been erected, dripping with cobwebs and – slime? fake blood? – forming a sort of maze through which Pam assumed the children would have to pass. Fog swirled thickly around her ankles.

Crane must have gotten permission from Coach Kane to incorporate the gymnastics equipment into his design. Lifelike corpses dangled by hangman's nooses from the uneven bars, the balance beam was edged with lethal-looking spikes, and – was that a _head_ on the vault?

Sinister music played in the background, low enough that you had to strain to make it out, just loud enough that it couldn't be ignored. Pam grimaced when she realized that rather than the typical horror movie themes and Halloween songs, it was an extra haunting rendition of Ring around the Rosie.

The overall effect was, for lack of a better word, chilling.

As Pam stood there in the doorway, a form materialized from the shadows to her left, and she jumped.

"Hello, Pamela," she heard Jonathan's quiet voice, sounding even more unsettling than usual coming from – was that supposed to be a scarecrow mask? His eyes were shining with a fervent light, and his mouth was a black hole that seemed to go on forever (but surely his real mouth was in there somewhere?).

"It's – I –" Pam stammered, hand to her heart. She moved further into the gymnasium, seeking to put a bit of distance between them.

"Hi, Pam! Did you come early to help out?" said a figure clad in a garish yellow suit, emerging from the maze of walls, and Pam thought she'd never been so happy to see Edward Nygma in her life. He had a bright green mask on, and she must have looked quizzical because he paused, struck a pose, and said, "Ssssssmokin'!"

He looked at Pam. She looked back. Then Edward's shoulders drooped and he crossed the rest of the way over to them, muttering, "Jim Carrey in _The Mask_. Guess you haven't seen it, then."

"Did you two do – all of this?" Pam asked, trying to recover from her initial shock and Jonathan's disturbing costume.

"Yes," said Jonathan.

"We've been here all day," Edward said. "Just took a quick break to get our costumes on. Harley couldn't be here early – something about her little brothers – so it's just been the two of us. We have a few more student volunteers coming soon."

"The eyeballs are peeled grapes," Jonathan said suddenly.

Pam attempted to be a gracious conversationalist, as her parents had always taught her. "Ah – you mean, in the maze?"

Jonathan nodded, his scarecrow mask wobbling a bit. "The hearts are canned tomatoes." He clenched his fists. "Woodrue wouldn't let me use real organs from the biology room. I was going to – procure my own, but Edward insists these are acceptable alternatives."

Edward clapped him on the back, laughing heartily (but Pam thought she detected a tremor of fear). "Man, you're hilarious! Come on, buddy, the kids are going to love it."

"Yes," said Crane thoughtfully. "The children."

Just then, the doors burst open, and Pam turned reflexively to see Selina striding in, closely followed by Bruce.

The captain of the gymnastics team took a moment to survey her usual domain. Pam thought she cut quite a dashing figure in her golden catsuit, wide belt, hat with a feather, and knee-high boots. Then Selina turned to Jonathan and said. "No, Crane. Hell no. This is 500% scarier than it needs to be." She snapped her fingers. "Bruce. Pam. Green . . . person. Help me make this age-appropriate. We only have half an hour."

As she strode over to the uneven bars, presumably to cut down a hanging corpse or two, Jonathan attempted to stop her, stepping into her path – but Selina dodged him with catlike grace and continued undeterred, muttering "They're _children._ What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bruce went over to work on the vault, and Edward (after a fitful glance at Jonathan) slunk back into the maze. After a moment, Pam headed after Selina, noting that Jonathan simply stood there, looking in Selina's direction, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"Yao Ming. Put your height to good use and help me untie this . . . hanging corpse," Selina said brusquely, not looking at her.

Pam grit her teeth, grabbed a nearby pair of scissors and complied, suppressing an eye roll at the brunette's inability to refrain from taking charge. "I'm only 5'7"," she muttered.

Selina got one of the bodies down and spread out the cobwebs to cover the gap. "What are you supposed to be, anyway?" she said.

"Wait until Harley gets here – then it will make sense," Pam said, enjoying the slight wince that Selina tried to hide.

"Oh, you did a couples' costume? That's cute, considering you've been dating for 4.3 seconds," Selina sniped. "Is that the high school version of U-Hauling?"

Pam finished cutting down the corpse and let it fall heavily to the floor. "Christ, Selina," she began, turning on her. "Can't you ever just–"

"Hey, ladies," said Bruce, ambling over. He looked just as dashing as his girlfriend, sporting a red velvet tunic, cape, and hat over black leggings. "I got the . . . head off the vault. The bars are looking much less terrifying, nice work." He stood by Selina and nudged her with his shoulder affectionately.

Pam cocked her head to the side. "So . . . Robin Hood and Little John?" she tried.

When Selina stayed silent, arms crossed over her chest, Bruce stepped in. "She's Puss in Boots – isn't she adorable? And I –" here he affected a 'princely' pose – "am Prince Farquhar!"

Selina sighed and turned to Bruce, cupping his chin in her hand. "Say it with me, dummy," she said with a reluctant smile, "Looooord Faaaaaarquaad." Bruce shrugged amiably and planted a quick kiss on her. She jumped back and pulled her sword, and now Pam noticed that she wore a tail the same color as her catsuit. " _En garde!_ " Selina cried, and while she and Bruce had a mock sword fight, Pam wandered off to see if there were other areas in need of her attention.

Then she heard a high, clear voice, and her heart stuttered. "Go on, punch 'em!" Harley was saying to Diana as they came through the doors of the gymnasium, trailed by three shorter figures. "I can't feel a thing!"

As Diana drew back her fist, aiming at Harley's chest, Pam cleared her throat loudly, and the two girls turned to look at her. She barely had time to quirk a mock-judgmental eyebrow before Harley was running over, throwing her arms around Pam's neck, and kissing her impulsively. "Mmm, those glasses, Red," said Harley, pulling back a little and looking up at her. "You're workin' the four-eyes look, babe."

Pam forgot where they were for a second, until she heard Harley's littlest brother say "Wooooow Harley look at all the scary stuff!" She turned her head and saw a tiny furry figure running past them in one direction, a slightly taller ninja headed over to the discarded corpses under the uneven bars in another, and a . . . hockey goalie? leaning against the wall near the doors, engrossed in his phone.

"Had to bring my little brothers early," Harley said. "Mom's working. She didn't – she thought I'd be embarrassed to have them here, you know . . . for a charity thing. But I told her it didn't matter, that we'd have the most fun! And I helped them put their costumes together, and–"

She was cut off as Pam leaned down and kissed her, hard, unable to stop herself.

A minute later, when Diana tapped her on the shoulder, Pam pulled back, breathless, noticing a lovely flush on Harley's cheeks. "Hello, Diana," Pam said hoarsely.

"Hey, Pam," said Diana with a grin, looking radiant in a perfect Rosie the Riveter ensemble. "Your wig's a little out of place."

Pam and Harley took a step apart, both blushing now. Pam realized that Harley's hands had tangled in her hair, and she set about adjusting her wig. "Stupid frickin' wig," she mumbled. Then she realized both girls were staring at her.

"Think I'm rubbin' off on her," Harley said in a conspiratorial stage whisper, leaning over to Diana.

"Hmm," said Diana thoughtfully. "You just might be." Then she looked back and forth between them. "So, let me guess, you're . . . Britney Spears" (she indicated Harley's velour tracksuit), "and Jennifer Aniston in _Office Space_?" (gesturing at Pam's green vest with all its 'flair').

"Diana, you riveting idiot," Selina said as she and Bruce approached the group, "they're obviously Paris Hilton circa 2001 and the girl from the Thin Mints box."

Harley giggled when Pam put her hands on her hips, affronted.

"You girls keep me young. Oh, I love you so much!" said Harley.

Recognition dawned on Selina's, Bruce's, and Diana's faces. "You're Regina George's mom! That's hilarious," Bruce said. He shrugged when Selina gave him a look. "What? It's a classic."

"Okay, Pam, you go," Harley said encouragingly.

"Um . . . I got divorced," said Pam stiffly.

The others looked at her with identical blank expressions.

"Sometimes older people make jokes?" Pam tried.

Harley slid an arm through Pam's bent elbow and leaned her head on the redhead's shoulder. "She's Tina Fey's character, you guys," she said. "Pam had _Mean Girls_ costumes made for us cuz she knows it's my favorite."

Selina snorted. "So . . . out of all the characters in that movie, you chose the _mom_ and the _teacher_?"

Pam's biting retort was cut off by the sudden arrival of Jonathan and Edward. "Places, everyone," said Jonathan in his sinister voice. "The children will be arriving any minute now." He eyed Harley's brothers. "Although it seems some of them were early." Harley flinched a little next to Pam, and Pam covered Harley's hand with her own. She could put Crane in his place if needed.

"Edward, the lights!" said Jonathan with a flourish, apparently recapturing some of his Halloween spirit now that the event was almost at hand. Edward disappeared, and a moment later the lights began flickering eerily.

"Ooh, it's like every hospital in a horror movie!" Harley said, clutching Pam's arm tighter for a second before releasing her. The small group of students split up, going to their assigned stations, and Harley blew Pam a kiss and then pouted dramatically as she walked over to work the registration table.

Pam went to her spot in the maze. She felt around in the bowl. "These feel nothing like eyeballs," she said to no one.

Traffic was slow at first, but eventually the gym was filled with the odd combination of rich donors (and their children), and the children who would benefit from the day's activities. Occasionally, a student or teacher volunteer would wander through – Pam couldn't suppress a giggle at the sight of Dick Grayson in nothing but a Speedo and swim goggles ("I'm Greg Louganis," he said proudly), and she had to admit she was impressed at Professor Gordon's era-appropriate Amelia Earhart costume. Pam eventually gave up on explaining her own costume, instead holding out the bowl of poorly-imitated 'eyeballs' wordlessly to each group of children.

At one point, Pam turned her back to the maze and attempted to adjust the bowl on the table so that it wouldn't be necessary for her to hold it out. She felt a silent presence behind her just a second before two soft hands covered her eyes. "Crane, if that's you, I swear to God–"

"It's not Jonathan," giggled Harley behind her. Pam turned and breathed out a sigh of relief. "Wanna take a quick break?" Harley said, twirling a strand of hair around one finger and looking up at Pam from beneath her eyelids.

Pam didn't hesitate. "There's a spot behind the maze where we can be alone," she said urgently, pulling Harley by the hand.

As they sank down onto the pile of mats, Harley tugged off Pam's wig, and Pam sighed as Harley ran her fingers through red locks, gently untangling them. "I hate that thing," she grumbled. She started to take off her glasses, but Harley stopped her.

"Leave them on," she said, her voice low.

Pam bit her bottom lip. "Whatever you say, Ms. Norbury," she said as Harley slowly moved on top of her.

"You're Ms. Norbury, dork," Harley whispered, but Pam was already pulling her down into a kiss that started off chaste enough but quickly built in intensity. Pam moaned as Harley's tongue found hers at the same moment her fingers tightened in Pam's hair. She ran her hands down Harley's back and gently cupped her rear, which had the blonde panting over her in seconds.

Then they both froze, pulling slightly apart as they heard two familiar voices behind a nearby wall.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing back here?" Selina said.

"I dunno," said a little voice, and Harley mouthed _That's Henry!_ She tensed, starting to get up, but Pam held her down, shaking her head and indicating that they should wait and see how this played out.

"Party's out there," Selina tried again.

"Yeah," said Henry. "The fancy party with all the fancy kids in their fancy costumes."

There was a pause, and then Pam heard Selina say, "I guess some of them are fancy. But I always liked the homemade ones better, you know?"

Henry scoffed. "You're just sayin' that cuz you're a grownup."

Selina laughed lightly. "Hardly." Then her voice got quieter. "I'm not just saying it. I didn't always have the fancy costumes either." Pam looked at Harley's wide-eyed expression as Selina went on. "One year, my mom forgot Halloween altogether."

"No shit!" Henry exclaimed. Then, "Sorry."

Selina chuckled again. "Doesn't bother me, kid."

"Henry."

"Okay, Henry. So yeah, Mom forgot Halloween and I had to make my own costume. I wanted to be a Disney princess, but all I could find was a paper grocery bad and a Sharpie, so . . . I went as a robot. And all the kids at school – every single one of them – laughed at me."

"That sucks," said Henry.

"Yep," Selina said. "But the next year, I planned ahead and made a better costume. And the year after that, an even better one. And so on and so on, until here I am, the greatest swordfighting cat in all the land!"

They heard her jump to her feet and draw her sword. "Fear me . . . if you dare!" Henry laughed, and Selina said, "Come on, ki – Henry. Let's go out there and show 'em that you're a ninja who means business." There was a moment of silence, and then she went on, "I'll let you have the sword . . ."

"Yeah!" Henry yelled, and Pam heard his excited footsteps running off, followed by Selina's more moderate pace.

Pam looked up at Harley. The blonde's eyes were glistening with tears, and Pam wiped them away with her thumb. "So, um . . . apparently she's a decent human being sometimes," Harley whispered.

"Yeah," Pam said, pulling her close, hugging her sweetly. "Yeah, she is."


	27. Chapter 27

The haunted house had officially been over for a half hour now, but Jonathan had refused to turn the lights back on, making the task of gathering all three of her brothers especially challenging for Harley. And Pam also…where was Pam? She'd promised them a ride.

"Hey, Harry!" She spotted the oldest sitting with his back against the wall, his mask pushed on top of his head, staring at his phone (no surprise there).

"I'm coming," he grumbled, pulling himself to his feet.

"You seen Zeb?" Harley asked.

He shook his head, not acknowledging her further.

"Great…" Harley sighed. And then she heard it: Henry's voice above the sound effects Jonathan had neglected to turn off just yet.

"C'mon, I wanna introduce you to my big sister. She's really fun." Henry was assuring someone…Henry was assuring Selina. He dragged her by the hand out of the maze, brandishing the sword she'd lent him in his free hand.

Selina was smiling amusedly, thoroughly charmed by this little boy, but her expression shifted as soon as her gaze fell on Harley—her smile sinking away and the twinkle in her eye turning colder.

"This is my big sister, Harley." He grinned, indicating the blonde. "She goes to this school."

The smile slowly began to return to Selina's lips as Harley watched, Henry looking back and forth between them, waiting for someone to speak.

It was Selina who finally took the lead. "Your sister is on my gymnastics team." Her tone was warm, kind, different than what Harley was accustomed to from her. "And do you know Pamela?"

"Pfft, yeah." Henry grinned.

"She's Harley's girlfriend," Harry mocked.

Selina chuckled at that. "They're pretty gross, huh?"

"Yeah, we've seen them kiss," Harry reported. "And they're always texting each other."

That seemed to push Harley out of her initial shock phase and into action because, uh, last time she and Selina talked, Harley distinctly remembered the girl bragging about taking Pam's virginity, so…but wait a minute, Harry. "Well then, who are you always texting?" Harley wanted to know.

"She got you there, dude." Selina smirked, before turning her attention back to Henry. "Well anyway, Pamela is my best friend. Has been since we were even younger than you."

Harry crossed his arms, putting his phone down to give Selina his undivided attention. "Really?"

"You ready to go, babe?" Bruce was suddenly there, with a hand around Selina's waist.

"Whoa, do you play football?!' the third Quinzel brother asked, coming in through the front door for some reason, trailed by Pam and Diana.

Bruce laughed. "I do. You've got a good eye, little man."

Harley looked confusedly at Pam as the redhead came to stand beside her, interlacing their fingers. "What were you guys doing outside?"

"This little guy thought it would be a bright idea to just wander off," Diana explained. "Pammy and I had to chase him down. He's faster than he looks," she added with a wink in Zeb's direction, earning a toothy grin from him.

"So…are you guys all friends with my sister?" Harry asked, something nearing pride flashing in his expression.

"No—well, they're Pam's friends," Harley corrected suddenly, desperately wanting to avoid anything awkward.

"And any friend of Pam's is a friend of ours, Harley," Selina assured her, a bit too sweetly to be completely genuine.

"Boys, go get your candy." Harley pointed them over to the wall where they'd set their things. They obliged, a bit begrudgingly, as Selina continued.

"That's sort of the way it works around here, Harley. Just like Professor Gordon is clearly our newest ride or die bitch." Selina nodded her head across the gymnasium and they all turned to see Dick leaning casually against a wall (still dressed in only a speedo), laughing at some hilarious joke Gordon had evidently just cracked. The professor herself was sitting in her chair, seemingly bemused by his reaction.

The group raised a collective judgmental eyebrow.

"Yo, Jailbait!" Selina shouted, visibly startling Dick, who turned to look at them guiltily. "Back away from the nice lady, she's too pretty for prison."

"Here, Dick…come here." Pam laughed, shaking her hair out of her wig and pushing her glasses back into place. "It's safe over here."

Embarrassed, the boy quickly bid his teacher adieu and jogged over to his friends, who were now all sporting knowing smirks. "Will you guys knock it off?" Dick whispered, harshly.

"We didn't mean to embarrass you, Richard," Diana gave him a few friendly pats on the shoulder. "We just happen to like Gordon. Well…except for Pam, but that's just because she finally found someone who didn't melt at that camera-ready smile."

Bruce laughed. "To Barbara Gordon," he held up an imaginary glass. "Immune to Pam and Dick's charms; inspiration to us all."

Selina and Diana joined in the toast, clinking their non-existent glasses together.

"Mmm…" There was something wicked in Pam's smirk that Harley hadn't seen before (and according to the sudden twisting of her stomach, she liked it). "How fortunate for you there are children present."

"And if there weren't?" Bruce's blue eyes sparkled with mirth.

With that smirk still playing on her lips, Pam's hands twisted in the front of his costume and she pulled him closer, leaning up to whisper in his ear, "I'd have to make you melt."

"Well…damn," Dick lamented as the redhead released him. "That did it for me. By proxy. Pamela Isley, color me impressed."

Pam looked at him, that same playful malice in her smirk, and told him, "I'm not wearing these all night," referring to the glasses. "so get your kicks in now."

Oh my God, is Pam a flirt? Wait…did she and Bruce ever…? Or, she and Dick? No. Pam said Selina was the only one…and Pam isn't even into guys. Chill, Harley. These are her friends. Maybe that's just how they are.

"Hey, on that note: you guys coming over or what?" Bruce asked.

The way he said it…to Harley, it sounded like his invitation included her. She wanted to learn more about these people. Learn more about the version of Pam that they knew. See what she was like around people that actually knew her. Had known her.

"Yes." Harley answered suddenly, drawing an odd look from Pam. "Yes, yeah." But when the rest of the group began to give her the same look, her heart rate hastened, sweat beading on her brow. "Oh, I just meant—I wasn't sure if—ha ha," Is there a lake nearby I could throw myself into? "I probably wasn't invited."

"No, uhh—totally!" Bruce recovered. "Like Selina said, any friend of Pam's is a friend of ours."

"Right…yes…that is a thing I said just then, isn't it." Selina's delivery was robotic.

Ugh...the Selina problem…but you know what? Selina didn't own these people. Harley was free to have fun with whomever she chose. As was Pam. Selina didn't get to dictate Harley's relationships. Not with Pam, and not with Diana or Bruce or Dick, either. Even if Bruce was her boyfriend, and Dick and Diana were her boyfriend's best friends, leaving Pam as Selina's best friend and Harley as, well…Pam's girlfriend. Fine! She was totally fine with just being Pam's girlfriend. Who wouldn't want to be Pamela Isley's girlfriend?

Harley read Pam's expression as mostly apprehension, but with a little excitement thrown in there as well. That would have to do.

"Will your mother be home?" the redhead asked. "To look after the children?"

"Oh, yeah." Harley nodded assuredly, glancing at the boys who'd maintained silence for a pretty impressive stretch of time.

"Then it's settled!" Diana smiled, clapping her hands. "Pam, take Harley to drop the kids off, then meet us at Bruce's."

Harley kept glancing nervously at Pam the whole way home, tuning in and out of the conversation the boys were having with Pam about her car. It seemed she knew every feature, understood every mechanism…she really was a walking encyclopedia of ridiculousness, and the boys absolutely loved it.

"Should I come in?" Pam asked, once she'd parked outside the apartment building.

"Umm…well, you don't have to…but my mom might like it, since you're whisking me away again." Harley batted her eyelashes.

"OK," Pam chuckled, leaning forward and placing a kiss on the tip of Harley's nose, which garnered a giggle from Henry and Zeb and a "gross" from Harry as they filed out of the car.

"Hey, Mom?" Harley called as she opened the door, the boys pushing past her to get inside with their candy.

"Yeah, I'm right—Oh," Ms. Quinzel stopped just as she came into view, a smile growing on her face. "Hello, Pam."

"Ms. Quinzel," Pam nodded respectfully.

The woman narrowed her eyes at the girl. "Let's see…you're…Amy Adams in Talladega Nights?"

Pam had left her vest in the car but kept the prop glasses on, and Harley's face soon lit up with realization as she took another look at her. "Oh my God, babe! You totally could have been."

The redhead blushed at the term of endearment, taking the glasses off and looking sheepishly at Harley's mom, who was clearly a bit surprised as well, although there was something sly in her expression. "I was Tina Fey…from Mean Girls." Pam told her.

Her mom had known what she and Pam were going as – Harley had told her. So Harley shook her head with a giggle as the woman continued to give Pam a hard time.

Ms. Quinzel crossed her arms. "Coffee stain on the sweater or funky vest?"

"I—umm—funky vest," Pam confided, like she could barely believe there was someone capable of distinguishing between the two. "But I left it in the car."

"Ah," Ms. Quinzel smiled. "Well, that explains it, then. I bet you looked great."

Harley decided this was the best time to interrupt, as Pam was distracted tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and her mom didn't seem to have any more questions. "So…I got invited to hang out at Bruce Wayne's house tonight."

"Oh?" Her mom looked both surprised and impressed. The Waynes were pretty famous in Gotham City. Harley remembered seeing the story about Bruce's mom being shot by a mugger on the front page of the paper. She wasn't quite sure why that image still stuck with her…the boy in the picture had looked so sad, his dad's hand on his shoulder…weird to think of that as the same Bruce Wayne she now knew.

"Yeah, he's like Pam's best friend, they've known each other forever, and…anyway, Pam and I were probably just gonna watch a movie or something but then he offered and—don't worry, I'll take plenty of pictures inside the house." Harley assured her.

"So…" Ms. Quinzel seemed a little confused. "Bruce Wayne just wanted to hang out with you and Pam?"

"Oh, no," Harley laughed. OK, yeah that does sound a little weird. "His girlfriend's gonna be there, Selina Kyle, she's the captain of my gymnastics team. And—uh—Dick Grayson, he plays tailback on the football team, he's got a crush on a teacher who sorta looks like Pam, but she's in a wheelchair and is more like, understated, ya know? More like hot computer nerd or—or hot literature professor, I guess," Harley laughed, sensing that she was rambling but unable to stop herself at this point. "Anyway, yeah. So that's Dick. And then Diana, she's the one we went on the double date with, remember? I told you about her. She's the captain of the lacrosse team and her girlfriend—well—also sort of looks like Pam, I guess?"

"It's widely theorized that all redheads are related." Pam helped. "That we are all descendants of a single ancestor that carried the currently active gene for red hair, although estimates placing the occurrence vary between 20,000 and 100,000 years ago."

Ms. Quinzel was clearly charmed by the girl. "That so?"

"Yes," Pam confirmed. "You know; red hair is actually the rarest naturally occurring hair color in the world. I'm one of roughly 2% of the population that shares the trait. Green eyes, like mine, are far more common than the blue eye-red hair combination, though, which is the rarest minority in the world, period. "

"Ooh, Professor Gordon has blue eyes!" Harley said, excitedly.

"OK, girls," Ms. Quinzel waved her hands to stop them. "I think you passed the test. You're good to go."

"Yay!" Harley cheered, planting a quick kiss of appreciation on her mom's cheek before scurrying off to her bedroom to change. Pam stayed behind…which was fine, she and her mom could make conversation for two minutes, right? Pam was like every parent's dream.

Harley yanked off the velour sweatsuit, and then the white tank top she was wearing underneath. Quickly, she removed the copious padding in her bra and tossed it all onto the floor, opening her dresser drawer and pulling out a pair of jeans and a faded Ramones t-shirt. She changed at a record pace before sliding her red Converse out from underneath her bed and lacing them up.

"It was a truly satisfying experience," Pam was telling her mom when she reentered the living room area. "Your daughter is extraordinary, really. Unquestionably talented."

What are they…?

"And the moment she finished-gorgeous. Her body position was-"

Harley's mouth dropped open in horror. "Oh my God, Pam! TMI!"

Both Pam and her mom turned to look at her curiously. "I'm…sorry," Pam apologized, although it was clear she didn't know why she was doing it. "Your mother was lamenting having to miss your first meet. She asked me how it went…Is that—was I oversharing?"

Ms. Quinzel looked equally confused…for a moment…and then she realized where Harley's mind had gone and covered her face with her hands. "Really, Harl?"

Shit, fuck, no, God, why?

Attempting to flee her embarrassment, Harley lunged for Pam's hand and began dragging the bewildered redhead out the door.

"See ya later, Ma! We'll be safe!"

Harleen Frances Quinzel, get. your. mind. out. of. the. gutter.


	28. Chapter 28

Harley watched as Pam put the car in park, pulling up behind—

"Holy shit," Harley breathed. "Is that a Scaglietti? A '57?"

Pam furrowed her brow, taking a closer look at the white convertible parked ahead of them in the Wayne Manor driveway. "You can ask Diana when we get in there."

"That's Diana's car?!" Harley was in absolute awe at this point.

"Yes…" It was clear Pam wasn't sure why this was all so exciting…which just made Harley grin wider.

 _These people can't be real_ , Harley chuckled to herself, shaking her head. This entire thing was surreal. They were all so beautiful and their cars and their houses…even Bruce's driveway was spectacular. And now here Pamela Isley was, unbuttoning her shirt for some reason and…Harley was 100% sure she lived in a fairytale at this point.

Pam smirked at what Harley was sure was a hungry look in her eyes. "Tank top." She explained, slipping the button down off her shoulders and tossing it into the back seat. "I really didn't feel like wearing that ugly thing all night."

Harley bit her lip as her eyes traced the outline of Pam's bra below the thin fabric of the tank top… _No, stop it_ , she chided herself. _You gotta focus, Harl_. These kids ran the school and came from families that ran the entire city, and this was the first opportunity she'd been granted to impress them, or even get to know them as a group.

She felt pretty comfortable around Diana already, and Pam definitely. But Bruce she only really knew in the context of Selina, and she didn't really know Dick at all…this was her chance to show Pam's friends she was more than just a poor kid from the inner city. But, knowing herself, Harley was pretty sure she was gonna fuck it up somehow.

Pam was leaning over the console now, kissing her gently and running her thumb along her cheek. Harley smiled, some of the nervousness in her stomach dissipating as she pulled back to look into those green eyes.

"Are you ready?" Pam asked.

"Mhm," Harley nodded. She hoped she didn't look as anxious as she felt…Pam didn't seem anxious at all, although Harley wasn't sure why she would, these were her friends after all. But Harley thought maybe Pam would be anxious on her behalf—worried that Harley might embarrass her. That not seeming like an issue reassured Harley somehow, so she took a deep breath and opened the door, leaving the safety of Pam's car behind.

Pam took her hand as they passed through the second wrought-iron gate and ascended the flight of stairs up to the grand main entrance. And grand it was. Harley had seen pictures of it before, online and in the paper, but actually being there was a whole different ballgame. She honestly couldn't believe people actually lived here. It was just so…massive. And cold looking. She wondered how it was for Bruce growing up here as a child. She couldn't imagine how a building like this could ever feel "homey".

Pam rang the doorbell once they reached the front step, and as they waited, Harley watched the girl's hand wander to the wall which was nearly overrun with climbing ivies. Her fingers gently brushed the leaves of the plants. Her touch reverent, respectful…it made Harley smile, and she gripped her other hand tighter.

In another moment, the door swung open to reveal an older gentleman in a tuxedo. "Miss Isley," he greeted, cordially. "And who might this be?"

Pam dropped their joined hands, which earned her a raised eyebrow from the man. "Alfred, this is Harley—Harleen. Quinzel. Harleen Quinzel."

Harley's face grew hot, but without the warmth of Pam's hand in hers she felt cold on the last day of October, as a chilling breeze permeated the soft cotton of her t-shirt. The man was watching her now, looking her up and down, his expression void of reaction.

"Master Bruce instructed me to let Miss Pamela Isley and her 'girlfriend' in whenever they arrived," Alfred informed them. "I assume you fit that description, Miss Quinzel."

Harley didn't know how to answer. She thought she did, but after how quickly Pam had dropped her hand…

"I have no obligation to Mrs. Isley," he assured them.

Harley watched relief wash over Pam then. The redhead took her hand once more, smiling brightly as she laced their fingers together. "Then we have arrived."

"Excellent," Alfred opened the door wider, allowing them inside. "The children are downstairs in the recreation room."

"Alfred, please," Pam huffed. "We're nearly adults."

The man looked exceedingly unimpressed as he showed them to the stairs. "Miss Isley, no matter how pretty the girl you bring over, you'll still be the child who came here to play Secret Garden."

Harley giggled, finding the embarrassment on Pam's face adorable. "Secret garden? Like the movie?"

"Like the book," Pam corrected as she rapidly descended the stairs.

 _Literally even the staircase leading to the basement is nicer than my house,_ Harley realized, following closely behind Pam as she led them to a large oak door.

"What the fuck?" Selina asked immediately, not stopping what seemed like an intense game of ping pong to address them. "What took you so long?"

Harley allowed Pam to pull her into the room. Actually, that was necessary, as Harley was pretty sure she'd have just stood out in the hallway starring until someone pinched her. Ping pong, pool, air hockey, arcade games… _Wtf? Is this heaven? And the couches look so comfy! Is that a heavy bag? And a pullup bar? And a beverage bar? What is this place?!_

"Harley had to ask permission from her mother," Pam was saying...although Harley barely even registered that she was talking. She was too busy taking everything in.

"Damn it!" Selina fumed, throwing her paddle down on the ground when one of Dick's shots just barely snuck onto the edge of the table, scoring before Selina could defend it.

"Ha!" Dick laughed. "Two out of three. Truth or dare."

"Ugh," Selina grimaced. "Dare."

"Gimme 20. Hand stands, on the wall." He pointed to an empty space near the punching bag.

"Asshole," Selina grumbled, walking across the room and kicking herself up into a handstand, her feet kissing the wall as she bent her elbows until her head touched the floor and then pushed herself back up.

"One!" Dick counted for her.

Bruce and Diana were sitting on the couch, watching with amusement as Selina endured her punishment.

"So—uh, what are you guys doing?" Harley ventured. _Wow, that sounded supremely uncool._

"Sober truth or dare," Diana told her, patting the couch next to her for Harley to come sit down.

The blonde obliged, while Pam elected to sit in the armchair across from them

"What's—"

"We only really 'party' in the off season," Bruce cut her question off to explain. "You signed the agreement, you know the drill."

Harley nodded. When she'd made the gymnastics team, she'd had to sign a piece of paper promising sobriety as long as she was actively competing.

"So, during our seasons, we do this instead of drinking games." Bruce finished. "But anyway, welcome."

"Oh—umm—thanks," Harley smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Did Alfred give you the tour?" Bruce wanted to know.

"No," Pam answered for her.

"Oh," the boy seemed a little disappointed. "Well, what do you think of the house so far?"

For some reason, Harley could tell this was important to him…which she found endearing, sort of. He didn't seem like he wanted her to kiss his feet or anything, more that he was just proud of his home. "It's beautiful, and, like, gigantic."

Bruce grinned. "You know much about the Wayne family?"

"Umm…I know you." Harley smiled charmingly, which made Diana laugh beside her.

"20!" Dick finished counting and Selina dropped out of the handstand position.

"Well, the first Waynes were trappers, fur traders-," Bruce began. His sentence was cut short, though, by laughter: Diana, Dick, Selina and even Pam all starting in.

"Truth or dare." Diana punched him playfully in the shoulder.

"Oh, fuck you guys." Bruce complained. "Harley didn't know! It was educational!"

"Bullshit," Selina panted, still a bit out of breath from her dare. "Dems the rules. Truth or dare?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at his girlfriend. "Dare."

"Kiss that boy on the mouth. Do it now." Selina pointed at Dick.

"No!" was Bruce and Dick's immediate response.

"On the mouth! On the mouth! On the mouth!" Selina chanted, Diana joining in soon after, and Pam following suit a round later.

Bruce finally pulled himself off the couch, mumbling "I hate you guys," as he went.

"And my panties better be wet when you're done," Selina warned.

"Sweep him off his feet, Bruce!" Diana cheered.

In a grand sweeping motion, Bruce dipped Dick like one would a dance partner, kissing him as he did.

"Tongue!" Pam enjoined, receiving a middle finger from Bruce in response as the boys separated with an exaggerated smack.

"Are you not entertained?" Bruce delivered the line like Russell Crowe, earning cheers and claps from his audience.

Even Harley was clapping, although she barely understood what was going on.

"Is this when I come out?" Dick asked, clutching at his chest in overplayed mock-concern. "It's been you all along, Bruce!"

"Oh, shut up." The taller boy collapsed back into the couch cushions between Diana and Harley. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Harley."

"Don't be sorry!" Harley said, a bit too excitedly. Excited at being included in whatever this was…not at seeing Bruce and Dick kiss, although that certainly wasn't terrible.

"That feel like kissing your sister?" Diana wondered.

Bruce shrugged. "I've had worse. Pam, namely."

Harley and Pam's reactions were essentially the same, although with different motivations. Their jaws dropped open. For Harley this was yet another revelation about Pam's past love life within her close circle of friends, and for Pam herself…well, she looked downright offended.

"How dare you," Pam said as if Bruce had just slapped her in the face. "I am a fantastic kisser – it was you who was inebriated that night, and sloppy, frankly. Nauseatingly so."

"Jesus, Pam, you're so fucking predictable," Bruce laughed. "TRUTH OR DARE?"

"OK," Harley put her hands out to stop them as Pam grimaced, done with playing catchup. "Will someone please explain this game to me?"

Pam sat back in a huff, her arms crossed, which Selina thought was hilarious. With them both indisposed, Diana decided to step up. "Sorry, we're being rude. It's just a game we made up after knowing each other for so long. We're all too predictable. So…when Selina is a sore loser, she has to answer truth or dare. Same for when Bruce starts bragging about his family, or anytime he refers to 'The Waynes' as some sort of glorious entity or lineage. Pam has to do it when she gets conceited or gets on her environmentalism high horse…I do it when I get righteous and Dick does it when he complains about his many admirers or when he mentions Gordon."

"Wait, are you serious?" Harley laughed.

"I don't lie," Diana answered, sobering suddenly.

"Truth or dare!" the others all shouted at once.

…which just made Harley laugh harder.

Diana was amused. "What's so funny, Quinzel?"

"Just—," Harley wiped her eyes. "You guys are the coolest kids in school. Coolest kids in the city, even. And you—you're not even assholes, are you?"

Now it was Diana, Bruce and Dick's turn to be offended (Selina just sort of shrugged and Pam was still pouting). "Well I certainly hope not…" Diana said.

Harley grinned, getting up so that she could pull Bruce into a tight hug. "Thank you so much for inviting me." She didn't let go until he'd offered her an "umm…no problem?" When she sat back down, she looked at Pam expectantly. "Well? Truth or dare, babe?" (She saw Selina cringe slightly, but she didn't really care.)

"Fine. Truth." Pam acquiesced.

"What's the weirdest place you and Harley have done it?" Dick asked, plopping down in the beanbag chair between Pam and Selina.

"I don't know—my guest bedroom, maybe?" Pam said without a stutter, without even a hint of blush in her cheeks.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Which one?"

"East wing." Pam told him, plainly.

OK, so maybe Pam wasn't blushing, but Harley definitely was.

"Booooo," Selina heckled. "You guys are boring. I thought for sure Crotch Rocket would be kinky."

Now Harley was really blushing. "Well, I'm—I'm sorry I disappointed you, Selina."

"Yes, I'm sorry you did too." The brunette sighed, turning her attention to Diana now, evidently done with Harley. "Same question to you, Princess."

"With Mera or Steve?" The tallest girl asked.

"No, with Clark." Dick said.

Pam chuckled, finally having fully recovered from earlier, it seemed. But Diana shook her head. "We didn't."

Selina looked legitimately surprised. "You serious? You dated for like a year."

"Yeah, and how long did you and Bruce date before you did it?" Diana laughed. "Like 8 years?"

"We were kids," was Bruce's explanation.

"I was only a freshman," Diana argued. "Definitely felt like we were still kids then."

"I'm sorry, who's Clark?" Harley was back to playing catchup.

"Good friend of mine and Diana's. He goes to Metropolis." Bruce told her.

"Well, anyway, he found himself a Selina now," Diana chuckled. "Steve and I did it in his car one time—that was super uncomfortable…and Mera and I did it on the beach."

"So chaste, so pure." Selina mocked.

Dick was clearly disappointed with those answers. "What about you, Pam?" he prompted. "Clark put out for you?"

"OK, firstly," Pam sat forward before Harley could even react. "You all are going to give my poor girlfriend a heart attack. Secondly, Richard, I never actually dated Clark. I got him to accompany me to the homecoming dance because he's handsome, muscular, well-respected and above all a decent human being who allowed me to enjoy myself that night rather than spend the entire time refusing the advancements of lesser men."

Dick was incredulous. "How'd you get him to go?"

"Mind control, obviously." Pam rolled her eyes. "Look at me, Dick. In what world would I ever have trouble attracting male attention?"

"Ooh, truth or dare!" Harley said, excitedly, joining in on the fun.

Pam looked betrayed. "Et tu, Brute?"

Harley giggled, but put her hand over her heart. "Te amo," she said, apologetically.

And…yep, there was Pam's blush.

Selina rolled her eyes. "Truth or dare, Pam?"

"Dare," Pam answered, smiling. Not taking her eyes off of Harley as she did.

"How about you strip naked, run around outside and bark like a dog," Selina suggested.

"That's three dares," Pam intoned. "Pick one."

"Your pick," Selina challenged.

Dick, Bruce and Diana all humorously crossed their fingers, making their preference clear.

With an eye roll, Pam obliged them, pulling her tank top off over her head and putting her toned stomach and black lace bra on full display. "You're welcome," she taunted. "Bu you're going to have to buy me dinner for tickets to the rest of it."

/

Pam wasn't surprised by her friends' reactions to her semi-undressed status. As she primly folded her now-discarded tank top and placed it on the coffee table in front of her, she noted Selina's victorious smirk, Diana's raised (and appreciative) eyebrow, Bruce's wide grin, and Dick's whispered _Wow._

But there was only one person whose reaction she truly cared about, and she kept her face carefully impassive as she stole a glance at Harley. Would her girlfriend ( _girlfriend!_ ) be jealous? Or worse . . . embarrassed?

Then their eyes met, and Pam swore she felt a jolt of electricity, although that was clearly scientifically implausible. Harley's cheeks were pink, she was biting her lower lip in that way she always did when things between them got intense, and her eyes . . . they burned into Pam, with an intensity that took her by surprise, clear blue irises nearly swallowed up by black pupils.

Pam cleared her throat, breaking the moment before anyone else noticed something so private, and crossed her arms. "Enjoy the peep show, assholes," she grumbled, impressed at her ability to channel sexual frustration into what sounded somewhat convincingly like general grumpiness.

The six of them fell into easy conversation: Dick and Bruce started arguing playfully about who was the better kisser, Selina reluctantly allowed Harley to draw her into a discussion about the U.S. Olympic gymnastics team, and (after assuring herself that Harley could handle Selina just fine) Pam asked Diana what the latest news from Mera was.

All in all, Pam was pleasantly surprised, both by her friends' acceptance of Harley and by Harley's ability to interact in an unfamiliar group setting once her initial nervousness had subsided.

A while later, the sparkling water Dick had tossed Pam from the beverage bar began to take its toll, and she excused herself gracefully. As she was washing her hands for the CDC-recommended 20 seconds, the door clicked open and green eyes met blue in the bathroom mirror.

"CDC-recommended 20 seconds?" Harley said with a smirk, indicating the faucet with a head nod.

"Of course," Pam replied, stifling her grin as she dried her hands on the Waynes' color-coordinated guest towel. "I'm impressed that you remembered."

"Well, I might not have a PhD like _some_ people," Harley said, stepping slowly closer until she was right behind Pam, resting her hands lightly on her hips from behind, "but I do have this great biology tutor who's taught me _so_ much." She brushed her lips gently over Pam's bare shoulder, making the redhead shiver.

Pam gulped, caught off-guard by Harley as she so often found herself. She watched in the mirror as Harley's hands slid around her torso, grit her teeth as fingernails trailed lazily over her still-bare abs.

"So, Pam-a-lamb," Harley said, her voice pitched lower than usual, "you wanna get out of here?" Her teeth scraped oh so lightly over Pam's shoulder blade, and Pam let out a soft hiss without meaning to. She felt Harley's grin against the top of her spine before the blonde went on: "Or, while we're at Wayne Manor, did you wanna show me your secret garden?" Her fingertips slipped _just_ under the wire of Pam's black bra.

Pam finally found her voice. Kind of. "H-how did you manage to make that sound so naughty?" she stammered.

Harley took a step back and cocked her head to the side, considering. Pam turned to face her, pouting a little at the loss of Harley's body heat against her back but curious to hear her reply.

"Well," Harley said, scrunching up one eye thoughtfully and tapping a finger against her chin, "the word 'secret' already implies something clandestine, forbidden even. Plus I said it in a suggestive manner, and I already had you a little worked up, and saying 'your' secret garden sorta implies your lady parts and not an actual garden–"

The rest of her treatise was cut off, however, when Pam pulled her roughly back into her arms and kissed her, hard. When she had Harley breathless against her, Pam shifted to whisper right in her ear, "We're going to go to my house now. Before we do . . . promise me that you'll never say 'lady parts' again."

She felt rather than heard Harley's answering giggle – and then noises outside the still-open door caught both girls' attention. Pam's – _their_ – friends were apparently headed out, too.

"Get it, Pam!" Diana said with a grin as she passed the bathroom.

"Get a room," Selina sneered.

"Get over it, Party Cat," Dick said, affectionately ruffling Selina's hair until she grabbed his hand and bent one of his fingers back.

Bruce just waggled his eyebrows at them and tossed Pam's tank top to her. She caught it neatly, and Harley stepped back so she could slip it on.

The two girls smoothed their hair and clothes down as best they could and hurried after the others. Selina kissed Bruce fiercely before heading out to her car. Alfred held the door for all of them, and as she passed, Harley grabbed his hand (with her free hand, the one not tightly entwined with Pam's) and bent to smack a kiss on the back of it. "Lovely to meet you!" she said, and Pam couldn't suppress the laugh that bubbled up in response to the look on the butler's face.

They said their goodbyes and got into the car. Pam put her hands at 10 and 2 o'clock on the steering wheel, just to keep herself from pulling Harley into her lap right there. She chanced a look over at her, not surprised anymore by the hungry look in Harley's eyes.

"So," Harley said, mock-casually, "sounds like we need to come up with somewhere more adventurous than the guest bedroom on the east wing."

Pam's eyes widened, and then she smiled. "I know just the place," she said, and they peeled out of the Wayne Manor faster than Pam could ever remember doing so.


	29. Chapter 29

The girls pulled into the Isleys' garage, and Harley saw Pam take a quick mental tally of the vehicles present, followed by a tiny, almost unnoticeable nod of satisfaction.

But Harley noticed. Harley noticed everything.

They got out of the car and met by the rear bumper. Pam took both of Harley's hands in hers gently, almost shyly, and they grinned at each other. Pam cleared her throat. "Now . . ." she began, "I would make this all romantic, have you close your eyes and do a big reveal, but somehow I feel like we've done that before."

She leaned close, trapping Harley's hands between their bodies, her lips brushing the sensitive outer shell of Harley's ear, starting at the lobe and slowly trailing up, making the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "So I'll just tell you, Harley. I am going to take you to the most special place in the world to me – my greenhouse –" here, she smoothly maneuvered them so that Harley was pressed between Pam's body and the car, flicked her tongue teasingly against Harley's ear, continued speaking in a rough whisper – "and I'm going to lift you up on the counter, surrounded by my beloved plants . . ."

Now Pam trailed her lips down to the sensitive spot right behind Harley's ear, then further down to just below her jawbone, where she sucked gently, turning Harley to jelly in her arms, before whispering one devastating final line: ". . . and then, my beautiful Harley, I'm going to get on my knees for you."

"Fuck, Pam!" Harley squeaked, then quickly pulled a hand free and clapped it over her mouth. Amusement battled arousal in Pam's green eyes – and then she quirked an eyebrow and jerked her head toward the greenhouse, questioningly.

Harley giggled, pushed Pam back half a step, and took off at a light jog, amazed that her legs still worked at all.

She got to the greenhouse and went to fling the door open – only to be stopped (of course) by what looked like a space-age lock. Harley put her hands on her hips and turned around, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes in frustration.

Pam stood calmly in the doorway of the garage, leaning casually against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She smirked at Harley and shrugged.

"Pamela," Harley said slowly, evenly, doing her best to play Pam's game and stay calm despite the sparks of energy shooting through her body, "could you please come open the space-lock?"

Even as far apart as they were, Harley could see the look of confusion that appeared briefly on Pam's face, wrinkling her perfect forehead and flashing across her green eyes for a split second before realization dawned. "Ah," she said in that sultry voice that Harley heard in her dreams every night, "you mean the passcode for the greenhouse door." She straightened from her position in the doorway and walked closer, taking her sweet-ass time and (Harley thought) accentuating the natural sway of her hips on purpose, as if Harley wasn't enough of a drooling mess already.

When Pam was a step away, she leaned in. Harley let her eyes drift closed, already imagining the feel of Pam's soft lips against hers . . . but then she heard the beep-boop of the keypad and realized Pam was keying in the code to the greenhouse.

Harley opened her eyes. They were so close that she could feel the warmth of Pam's body, and as the redhead pushed open the greenhouse door with a flourish, she grinned in a way that told Harley she knew exactly what she was doing to her.

She cleared her throat. "What's the code?" she said hoarsely, suddenly curious. But Pam just blushed and said "After you," then slipped her hand into Harley's as the blonde turned and pulled her into the greenhouse.

"Right over there," Pam said in Harley's ear, steering her toward a slightly recessed alcove with a firm but gentle hand on her hip. Harley gulped when she saw the counter, remembering Pam's whispered words next to the car, and Pam's answering chuckle was warm against the back of her neck.

"Nice plants," Harley said absently.

"Yes, they are," said Pam, releasing her hold on Harley and stepping past her to carefully slide plants around, clearing a distinctly Harley-sized gap on the counter. She must have guessed that Harley was suppressing a laugh because she continued without even turning: "Well, I'm just trying to do my part to help the environment. Preserving these rare specimens is only a start."

Now the giggle burst out of Harley, despite her best efforts. "Truth or dare?" she said, and Pam turned to her and crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter and (Harley thought) doing her best to look scary.

"Harleen, are you implying that I was on my 'environmentalism high horse' just now?" she said, narrowing her eyes a little.

"Mmm, I'm not implyin' anything," said Harley, closing the gap between them, putting both of her hands on the edge of the counter so that Pam was caught in a gentle trap. She nuzzled into Pam's neck and pressed her body against her, ever so lightly, grinning against Pam's throat when she felt the redhead's pulse quicken there. "I'm straight-up sayin' Mother Nature's Chosen Protector is walking among us." She lightly kissed the hollow at the base of Pam's throat. "But . . .that's all right. . ." she trailed her lips gently up Pam's neck, rested them just barely against Pam's lips, "I love it when Dr. Isley comes to play."

Pam managed to sneak her arms out from between their bodies and wrap them snugly around Harley's waist, but when she tried to deepen the kiss, Harley pulled back just enough, teasing. "Uh-uh, Red. Truth . . . or dare?"

She could sense Pam's hesitation and guessed that her girl probably felt too vulnerable for 'truth' right now, so Harley quickly said, "How 'bout I just dare you to follow through on what you said by the car?"

Pam looked right at her then, and Harley thought she could see in those green eyes relief, and surprise, and turned-on-ness, and . . . something more?

But then Pam was smoothly reversing their positions, pinning Harley against the counter, and the moment was gone. _Eh, this is also a super-awesome moment, so I'll roll with it,_ Harley thought, right before Pam's lips claimed hers.

"It's not fair," Pam said when they broke apart for a quick breath. She leaned her forehead against Harley's, breathing heavily.

"What, babe?" said Harley, tightening her grip on Pam's shoulders just a little.

"Well, you get to call 'truth or dare' on me whenever I get conceited . . . but we don't have a truth or dare trigger for you yet," Pam said, lazily twirling a blonde pigtail around her finger. (Harley was suddenly glad that she'd redone her signature hairstyle when they dropped the boys off after the haunted house.)

"Hmm," said Harley, sliding her fingers down under the back of Pam's tank top, feeling the warm skin between her shoulder blades, grinning as her touch made the other girl shiver. "Should it be . . . every time I giggle?"

Pam looked mock-thoughtful. "No, we can't have you playing Truth or Dare every five seconds."

Harley scoffed and twisted her mouth up in a fake pout, which Pam quickly kissed away. "For the same reason . . ." Pam said, gripping Harley by the hips and smoothly hoisting her onto the counter, making her gasp, "we can't have your thing be 'making Pam's heart beat faster.'"

It took Harley a second to process what she was saying. When it hit her, she started to say "Aww," but was cut off when Pam's lips met hers again, her kiss both gentle and intense in a way that made Harley's head swim. "We'll . . . just keep brainstorming," she managed to gasp out as she felt Pam's fingers skim lightly beneath the edge of her faded jeans. Harley lifted her hips instinctively so that Pam could slide the pants down to her ankles in one smooth, confident motion. Then, after a bit of fumbling to remove shoes and socks, Pam got them off the rest of the way.

She stood back up, and the light from the heat lamps lit up her hair, and Harley knew she was probably staring with a stupid look on her face but _come on_ , wouldja just look at her!

And judging by the way she was arching an eyebrow, her lips set in an amused line, Pam knew exactly what Harley was thinking.

Then she slid her fingers up the inside of Harley's thighs, lightly stroked her through her panties while her eyes burned into Harley's, and there was no more thinking.

Harley arched against Pam's fingers, pulled her close by the hips, wrapped her legs around her waist – she had this sudden craving to press every inch of her skin against Pam. "Please," she whispered, not even sure what she was begging for until Pam leaned into her and kissed her again, hard, still touching Harley gently with one hand as she sucked on her bottom lip, then skimmed her tongue gently along it.

The other hand slid smoothly under Harley's t-shirt, perfect fingernails trailing up her rib cage before flipping Harley's bra up to give Pam full access, stroking and caressing the sensitive flesh until Harley was sure she was going to burst into flames right there. She hoped she wouldn't take all of Pam's beautiful plants with her when she went.

When Pam's fingers slipped past the elastic of Harley's panties at the inside of her thigh, they both moaned. "God, Harley," Pam breathed, pulling back so Harley could see how dark her eyes were, how wet and swollen her lips were, "you're so . . . can I–"

"You gonna make me say 'please' again or what?" Harley said, sounding way more in control than she felt. Pam nipped at her lip in response before slowly kneeling on the greenhouse floor, tugging until Harley obligingly lifted her hips once more.

Later, when their positions were somewhat reversed (now Harley had Pam backed up against the counter, her mom jeans around her knees), they both heard the screech of tires. Harley froze, listening, but Pam jumped into action, bending over to yank up her jeans and flipping Harley's socks up to her one at a time.

"Pam," Harley said, but Pam had moved on from flinging articles of clothing to attempting to smooth out her hair, to make herself presentable. Harley had the fleeting thought that she was going to run out to face her parents alone, leaving Harley to – curl up in the greenhouse for the night?

"Pam!" she said, more insistently. The redhead whirled to look at her, irritation flashing across her flawless features before they softened. Harley reached out her hands, and Pam slowly took them. "It's not your mom," Harley said quietly. "I don't think she'd risk peeling _into_ your driveway like that."

"It must be that damn Barry Allen kid," Pam muttered darkly. "He's always speeding around the neighborhood." She craned her neck as if she'd somehow be able to spot him over the Isley manor.

Harley sighed. "You know, at some point we're gonna have to talk about this," she said, trying to sound offhand and failing miserably. She let Pam's hands fall, turned to the counter and started going through the pile of clothes Pam had tossed up to her, pulling each item on once she had it right-side-out.

She was tugging her jeans pants back up over her hips when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, another sliding around to her stomach, warm lips on the back of her neck. "How about now?" Pam said. Harley shrugged, and Pam turned her around so they were face to face. "What is it?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," Harley said, leaning into Pam, relieved that they were talking and still worried she'd say the wrong thing. "After today, hanging out with your friends, I feel like I shouldn't even bring this up, but–"

"It's bothering you that I still haven't told my parents about us," Pam finished for her.

"Yes!" Harley exclaimed, looking up at her wide-eyed. "How did you – I mean, you're smart, but that's twice just now that I feel like you read my mind."

Pam smiled and did that thing again where she twirled one of Harley's pigtails around her finger – _she must know that it makes me melt_ , Harley thought.

"Harley," said Pam, "you seem to think that my not telling them is a reflection of how I feel about you. But it's not." Harley bit her lip to keep from blurting out a thousand questions, and Pam went on. "Um, the code to the greenhouse? From before?" She sighed, blushing faintly and ducking her head a little. "It's 08-28—for the first day of school…when I saw you for the first time. When I felt so inconvenienced having to share my syllabus with you…" she trailed her finger down Harley's cheek. "That was also the day I first imagined your lips on mine, your body pressed against me…" Pam said, tracing Harley's jawline, holding her gaze, "you basically hold the key to my _secret garden_." She managed to keep a straight face just a split second longer than Harley did, and after they caught their breath from the laughing fit Pam twined their fingers together. "Harley . . . you can always talk to me."

Harley nodded. She didn't feel like it was resolved, but she didn't want to force the issue, or make Pam feel like she had to choose between her and her parents, or seem desperate, or – most of all – to risk losing her if it kept being a sore subject between them.

"Like in the locker room," she said.

Pam considered a moment, and then smiled. "Exactly. Like that time we talked honestly about your feelings in the locker room. Although this time –" here she got that look on her face, and her hands started wandering, and Harley knew she was about to be swept away again – "I'm even _more_ grateful that we can talk about these things in _private_."

/

Talia allowed herself a happier smile than what she was accustomed to, nodding at Harley as the girl changed. Obviously, she would have rather placed first herself, but seeing Selina get knocked from the top spot turned out to be satisfying regardless.

Talia wasn't completely sure what to make of this Harley girl. She was different from the rest of them. She was a genuinely happy person. Her smiles weren't fake, and you got the feeling that when she complimented you, she really meant it. She wasn't evil or even cruel…so why she was dating Pamela Isley, Talia had no idea. The Queen Bee of intellectual elitism, the ultimate unattainable mean girl.

…Although, Talia supposed, the fact that she was now dating Harley might explain why she was "unattainable" for so long. Either way, it was a strange coupling. Talia understood the whole "opposites attract" concept, but this felt like an extreme. Not that any of this was her place. Pamela Isley had never been a friend of hers, nor an enemy, really. Sure, Talia found it a bit annoying how thoroughly Bruce seemed to enjoy the redhead's company…but the girl was pleasant to look at, so Talia supposed she could let that one slide.

Talia had just received an **"I'm outside"** text from her sister when she remembered that Coach Kane had asked her to lock up her office. So she turned on her heels, heading back past Harley and shutting herself into the office. Coach Kane kept her office key in the top drawer of her desk, so—

"Hey, I'm really sorry I—"

Talia stopped short of the desk at the sound of Harley's voice. _Phone call?_

"What do you have to be sorry for?"

 _No, that's Selina. I thought she'd left_. Talia tiptoed back to the door, pulling the blinds apart just enough to peer out of. Yes, there was Harley, sitting on the bench, still lacing up her sneakers…and there was Selina, standing over her, arms crossed.

Talia wasn't totally sure why she was interested in this exchange…maybe she wanted to see them fight, maybe she wanted to see the aftermath of Selina's humbling.

"I just…Sometimes it's hard competing against a teammate, ya know?" Harley's tone was apologetic. "And your routine looked so good too, must have been a chalk problem."

Talia breathed out a scoff. "Jesus, take credit, Harley."

"No." Selina shook her head. "It was a grip problem. I'm not going to blame an inanimate object for my failures."

Talia rolled her eyes. "Oh, how noble."

"And it's pretty cool that we locked up first and second place for our school." For some reason Harley seemed to still desperately want to please her.

"Lost cause," Talia mumbled.

But now Selina was grinning. That sadistic, self-satisfied smile that Talia had learned to recognize and to fear. "It sure is. And finishing first…I guess you and Pam do have something in common after all."

"What's that now?" Harley asked.

Yeah, she and Talia were in the same boat there. _What's she talking about?_

"I mean when I took Pam's virginity last year." Selina clarified. "I seem to remember her finishing first. Just like you!" She stalked over to the door of the locker room, then turned back, a hard smile firmly in place. "Congratulations on your win."

Talia's jaw hit the floor. _Wait, what? Selina and Pamela? But…Selina was with Bruce last year._ It eventually clicked as she watched Harley slump, defeated, on the bench: Selina had cheated on Bruce with Pamela Isley.

Talia's heart rate began to accelerate, and it didn't calm down when Pamela actually entered the locker room. Talia felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, but ignored it. Nyssa could wait. She'd have to, actually, as there was no way out for Talia now, especially as Harley and Pamela seemed to have entered into an argument.

"Harley – I – what's going on?" Pamela looked confused by Harley's closed off body-language. She obviously wasn't aware of the bomb Selina had just dropped on Harley. Though Talia wasn't totally sure why the blonde looked so hurt, unless Harley was offended on Bruce's behalf (as she should be).

"Go, Pam." Oh, no Harley wasn't just hurt. She was angry. "Go meet Selina. Fucking nod at her, or take her back to your place, or whatever you two feel like doing. I don't care anymore."

 _Ouch_ …

Talia expected Pamela to spit something nasty at the girl, flip her hair and walk away. But she—she didn't. She just stood there, looking broken, her expression and posture holding none of their usual confidence.

Harley raised her voice: "Selina is a lot of things, Pam, but at least she's not a fucking liar. I hope you had fun slumming it with me. Guess it wasn't as _special_ as you pretended, but hey – at least you got to see how the other half lives."

OK, so now Talia was invested. _Come on, girls. Would it kill you to share a little context?_

"Keep the car," was Harley's final line.

 _Jesus, did Isley buy her a car?_

But Pamela still wasn't retreating, and she still didn't look angry. Just…sad. "No," she said, after a long moment of silence. "Don't be petulant, Harley. Tell me plainly what's bothering you. I'm told that's how people navigate relationships."

Talia furrowed her brow, leaning closer to the window, careful not to make a noise but wanting a better look at the redhead.

"Oh yeah?" was Harley's response. "Were you also told not to lie? Because that's usually a deal-breaker."

 _Huh…_ Talia wouldn't have expected Harley to be one to take such a hard stance. Perhaps she'd underestimated her. But then Pamela took the blonde's hands, looking intently into her eyes, and for a minute—Talia got it.

"You—you lied to me. About you and Selina. You lied, Pam." Harley had clearly lost her edge.

 _That was quick_. Talia bit her cheek to keep from laughing. But then she was too confused by the look of utter shame on Pamela's face to really pay attention to what they were saying. Pamela was apologizing for something, saying she was afraid Harley wouldn't _want_ her if she knew.

 _Knew what? Was being with Selina really so bad? I mean, obviously, yes._ But Talia was under the impression that they were best friends.

Harley was apologizing now too, and they were kissing. Gently. Sweetly. And…it was odd, seeing how Pamela wrapped the other girl in her arms. Talia shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze, waiting for them to leave.

It was another minute or two before Pamela grabbed Harley's duffel bag from the bench and followed the blonde out of the locker room, leaving Talia alone, finally.

The brunette quickly made her way over to the desk and grabbed the key, exiting and locking her coach's office door behind her.

Nyssa was waiting…on her motorcycle, which made Talia roll her eyes. "You couldn't take the car?"

"Beggars can't be choosers," her sister replied, handing her a helmet. "And you're late."

"Yes…I know…" Talia said, a sly smile stretching her lips.

Nyssa raised an eyebrow. "Anything to report?"

"Yes," Talia took the helmet. "But it can wait until we get home, as I'm not sure it's worth incurring Father's wrath."


End file.
